


That Rascal Cassidy

by dwtbasv



Category: Preacher (Comics), Preacher (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Dream Sex, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Multi, Period Sex, Romance, Sex, Shower Sex, Smut, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - F/M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2020-11-28 12:01:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 154,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20966222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwtbasv/pseuds/dwtbasv
Summary: When Ada moves back home to West Texas for a new lease on life, the last thing she expects is to fall hard for the scruffy Irishman sleeping in the back pews of the town church. Then there's the whole thing about Cassidy being an aimless, substance-loving vampire, and his best mate, the preacher, possessing a power that rivals God himself.But Cass strives to be better, for himself and for Ada, and their lives will never be the same.Rewriting the history ofPreacherto give Cassidy the slice of happiness he deserved. This fic closely follows the plot of the show, but reveals how a bit of love could have made things different for Cass.This fic typically updates on Fridays—but no promises. We're currently in the middle of the plot of "Puzzle Piece" in season 2. If you enjoy, please don't hesitate to subscribe!





	1. Return to Annville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After moving back to Annville after a decade, Ada meets an interesting new face at church

It was a sweltering Sunday in Annville, Texas, and the sticky morning heat inside the chapel was suffocating. I sat in the third row next to my Momma, fanning myself with a program and doing my damnedest to stay awake during the service. Unlike her, I wasn’t exactly a believer, and as the droplets formed around my brow and rolled down the sides of my face, Momma’s voice resounded in my head.

“You’re sweating like a sinner in church,” she’d scold me in the old days, frequently, at the slightest hint of my distress. Today, I was certainly perspiring through my scratchy Sunday best dress, but at least a quick peek around the room revealed I wasn’t the only sweating scamp in the room.

I was trying to keep an open mind—believe me, I was—but the All Saints Congregational church seemed to me to be a meeting place for the town’s biggest outcasts and degenerates. Maybe a quarter of the seats were filled, and try as I might to concentrate, my thoughts drifted, and I couldn’t stop my mind from inventing stories of the folks sitting in the pews around me.

There was the churchgoer who had clearly had the shit beaten out of him, his busted arm held up in a cast and sling. I imagined him losing a bar fight, badly, his pride all but trampled. I’d had to force myself not to stare at another who seemed to have an enormous anus in place of a mouth. No matter where my thoughts went, they couldn’t come up with a suitable explanation for this poor kid with the ass face. And then there was the man unselfconsciously stretched out across an entire back pew, dozing. At least he had the right idea, getting in his penance without having to engage whatsoever.

I tried to pass the time by studying the architecture, but I could only stare at the big plain cross at the head of the church for so long, and the harsh sunlight washed out the stained glass windows so I couldn’t even make out the patterns. I had to remove my glasses again and again to wipe the lenses of condensation from the growing humidity in the room, and eventually I simply gave up. The coughing bellow of the pipe organ only served to lull me closer to sleep.

As I sat through a bizarre and toneless punk interpretation of “Amazing Grace,“ I wondered exactly what I’d gotten myself into coming here. It took only minutes of Sunday service for me to regret ever agreeing to let Momma introduce me to the new preacher, who—she’d reminded me again and again—was single.

After all, I’d only been unattached for two weeks and was in no rush to jump back into the fray. That relationship ended when my boyfriend of 9 years broke things off without warning. I never saw it coming, but all I could think about as the bullshit spewed from his mouth were the things I thought I should be feeling. I wasn’t heartbroken or upset. I didn’t even feel numb. All I felt was an overwhelming sense of freedom.

It was a signal for change, and after more than a decade in Los Angeles, I had to give in to the fact that Texas was calling out to me. It was time to come home. So I made my arrangements, packed up my things and was out of there in the course of a week.

But even this reinvigorating fresh start couldn’t mask that particular stink of Annville. I knew better than to dig too deeply so close to my roots. All that was down there was shit and offal. Instead, the cozy digs I found about 20 miles outside the town limits suited me fine. Even the brown-yellow haze that seemed to perpetually coat the place lifted once you’d gotten far away enough from it. I was glad to miss the introduction of the new town mascot, Pedro the Prairie Dog, on the night I’d arrived. Regardless of what Momma told me, I was sure it was a shitshow.

Preacher Custer wasn’t quite what I’d been expecting, either. He was handsome enough, striking quite the figure and emulating a saintly cowboy in his black suit, steel tips and clerical collar, but his little speech threw me for a loop and didn’t exactly inspire my confidence. I glanced at Momma as the preacher spoke and saw that the stuff about starting fights and hurting the community didn’t register at all. But when he got to speaking the word of God, she held her hand to her heart like he’d uttered a revelation. I wasn’t impressed.

When the service ended early, without a sermon, the relieved murmur from the small crowd was impossible to miss. As most of the audience filed out to barbecue and drink Sunday morning beers, Momma leaned over and insisted it was time for me and Jesse Custer to meet. I knew it was a bad idea, but eager to get the whole thing over with, I agreed to step up to the pulpit with her to say hello. We rose from the uncomfortable wooden benches.

That’s when we were approached by the organist, who was quite happy to see Momma. She seemed straight-laced and dedicated, but to me it also appeared that she might be hanging on to her composure by a thread. I thought they were going to hug, but a sense of prim propriety forbade it.

"Emily, this is my daughter, Ada,” Momma introduced me, and we exchanged pleasantries before Emily saw the program in my hand.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she said to me as she put one hand to her face. “Things were kind of last-minute, so the service didn’t exactly follow along. You must have been very confused.“

"Oh, I figured things out,” I said. “No big thing.” While I’d read every word on the flier to kill time, multiple times, I hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice the discrepancies.

“Ada here is back in Texas after a long time away,” Momma chimed in. “And I knew she had to meet Preacher Custer.” It was then that the very little color in Emily’s face drained completely. Momma didn’t notice—or didn’t care. “I think they’d make a lovely couple, don’t you?”

She did her best to maintain a smile, but I think her eye was starting to twitch.

“Y'know, I gotta run,” Emily blurted, suddenly seeming like she had a dozen places to be. “Errands, kids. You know. You two take care.” And like that, she was gone.

Despite the weirdness, it was a welcome diversion. Momma had to grab my arm and drag me along to get me to finally step up to the preacher. We stood there before him for a moment before I loudly cleared my throat and he finally glanced up from his podium to see us.

“Mae, welcome back,” he said to her. His eyes immediately fixated back on the podium, which I realized had nothing on it.

“Preacher Custer, I’d like to introduce you to my daughter, Ada,” she replied as she gave me a tiny shove, pushing me nearer to him. Again, there was a pause as he finally raised his eyes long enough to truly see us both.

“Welcome,” he said, extending his hand. I firmly gave it a shake, and even through his twinkling, pleasant smile and the way he looked me directly in the eye, I knew he was seeing right through me. “Pleasure to meet you, Ada.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” I responded.

Momma continued the small talk from there, but it didn’t seem Jesse was absorbing much from the conversation. To be fair, neither was I, so I eventually excused myself, seeking some quiet.

I ran my fingers over the corners of the pews on my right as I walked to the back of the church, contemplating this massive waste of time. But then, just before the very last row, I halted. The sleeping man lay there along the bench, arms folded on his chest. His big hazel eyes stared right up at me.

“Hello there,” he said. His voice was deep but musical, and his words ended in a toothy grin. His unmistakably Irish accent caught me off guard. It certainly wasn’t the type of thing you ever heard in Annville.

"Hi,” I said back. I was a bit wary, but at least I wasn’t bored. He sat up then, pulling down at the corners of his denim vest, and then his playful expression sharpened a bit as he gazed up at me, to the front of the chapel and back again, like he was solving some kind of mental equation.

“I can put in a good word for you with the Padre, y'know,” he said, pointing his thumb in the general direction of the preacher. I thought he was joking at first, but his sincerity was apparent. “He’s me best mate. Listens to me.”

Sizing him up, I never would have pegged him as a friend of Custer’s. But he was either the world’s greatest liar or he was telling the truth, and despite everything, I believed him. Something about him pulled the honesty out of me, too.

“I do appreciate the offer,” I said, shaking my head slightly, “but I’m not really interested.”

He paused.

“Not your type, eh?” He raised an arched eyebrow emphatically as he studied me.

“Not exactly,” I admitted. “Not that I’m looking. I just got broken up with, so for now I’m gonna be taking things slow.”

“Well, you look great,” he said, looking down and wiping his palms on his jeans.

“I… What?” I stammered, and when a smile cracked again across his lips, I began thinking he liked getting a rise out of me.

“For someone who just had a split, you look great,” he expanded. “There’s a look about you. A glow. He was probably a bit of a bastard, am I right? You’re better off, is what I’m sayin’.”

I don’t know if it was the heat, but I could feel a warm blush in my cheeks.

“Thanks,” is all I managed to say before I heard Momma call behind me to say it was time to go.

The man stood now for the first time, towering above me by more than a head, as he extended a tattoo-marked hand.

“The name’s Cassidy,” he said.

“Ada.” I shook it back, and as he smiled softly at me, I somehow got the feeling this wouldn’t be the last I’d see of him.

—

Momma blabbed about Jesse Custer for the full 10 or so minutes it took me to drive her home, and honestly I was relieved she never once asked me what I thought about him. I imagined I’d feel a bit more focused once things got quiet, but even once I’d dropped her off, I found myself having difficulty concentrating my mind.

The whole drive home was a blur, and when I got back to my apartment, I couldn’t muster the willpower to even look at my Sunday to-do list. Moving boxes remained full and laundry sat in hampers. All I could summon the strength to do was watch old movies on TV and order Chinese takeout.

When bedtime came, sleep wouldn’t. I’d utilized all my usual insomnia tricks—blackout curtains, melatonin, lavender oil, a white noise machine and a little light meditation—but I still found myself lying awake, bouncing from thought to thought about my life and the decisions that led me here, yet unable to fully dig down and comprehend any of it.

Hours must have passed, and just when I finally thought my mind was settling down at last, the doorbell rang, harsh and piercing, just like the one I’d had back in Los Angeles. It jolted me out of bed. Now my mind was fuzzier than ever, and just making it to the front door left me feeling confused, like my apartment was a winding maze. I finally reached the entrance after what seemed like forever, and then unlocked the main door and opened it wide to see who had rung at such an hour.

I stared through the screen door. Standing in the dark, illuminated by wall lamps, was Cassidy, and somehow just seeing him brought things back into focus. Noticing the look of concern on his face, I quickly undid the next lock and opened the door for him.

“Cassidy… What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you.” His voice was resolute, and my first instinct was to comfort him.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, stepping closer to put my hand on his arm.

And then he looked straight into me with his sad, probing eyes, cupped his strong hands on both sides of my face, and kissed me hard on the mouth. For a second I did nothing, giving into him entirely, before I tugged on his vest to lead him inside, shutting the doors behind him.

Before I knew it, we were up against the wall, his arms at my waist as he tenderly kissed down my neck, nipping at my ear and sending ripples of pleasure down every inch of me. I felt his hard cock press against my belly through the denim of his jeans and I knew there wasn’t anything I wanted more than him, right here and now.

He was kissing my neck again as I fumbled with the button and zipper of his jeans, finally undoing them to find that his big cock was barely being held back by his boxer briefs. I pulled them down, and as his full length unfurled, I became ravenous for it.

Soon he was lifting me by the thighs, pinning me against the wall, and when he slid inside of me I was wetter than I’d ever been. God he was big, filling me up with powerful strokes that made me quiver and call out. He hungrily kissed my lips and then my neck and then my lips again, pulling me toward him with every thrust of his hips to go deeper and deeper, bringing me closer to ecstasy each time. I leaned into him, arms clutched around his neck, and pulsed with his every move. And then fuck, I felt it coming, slowly building inside of me in waves. I told him not to stop, that I was going to cum, and he obliged.

I moaned his name as I climaxed, and he held me as close as ever, never stopping, as sunlight began to trickle through the breaks in the blinds. Then the rays reached us, and our skin caught with bright, dancing flames. His gaze was so piercing now, even as the blaze left us blistered and risen away to ash.

He gave me one final rough kiss and I bolted awoke in my bed, soaked in sweat, mind racing, and horny as all get out. I’d never had a dream so vivid and emotional and erotic. I pulled the curtain aside to peek out, and was slightly relieved to find it was still the dead of night. I took a quick shower to clean up and try to get my thoughts straight, and I suppose I did, because as I lay in bed for the next three hours trying to get back to sleep, the only thought I could conjure for more than half a second was of Cassidy and when I could see him again.


	2. Laundry Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After an interesting dream, Ada needs to see Cassidy

I woke up about half past noon, and somehow the combination of exhaustion and an adrenaline rush seemed to push me into a weird state of nearly normal equilibrium. My heart was racing, but my mind felt clear. As soon as I was up, I hopped over to the wastebasket in the corner of the room and pulled the crumpled church program from the top of the trash pile.

I brought it with me as I sat at the foot of my bed, smoothing it in my lap as I skimmed for a phone number. It wasn’t long before I found it at the very bottom of the back page. I took a moment to rehearse a few lines in my head a couple of times, and before I knew it, I found myself dialing. I wasn’t anywhere close to actually being prepared, but I knew the sense of panic I felt would get me through whatever came next.

The phone rang twice, and I think my heart stopped when someone picked up. To my surprise, I heard a woman’s voice next.

“This is Emily, how may I help you?” It was the organist from the church, her tone bright and chipper as always. I went with it.

“Hi, Emily,” I said, trying not to sound as cautious as I felt. “This is Ada, Mae’s daughter, from yesterday at church. I had a quick question for you.”

“Well,” she answered shortly, her tone changing suddenly, “If you need to talk to Jesse, I can pass a message along when I see him next.”

That was clearly a sensitive subject, and I was perfectly happy not to get into it with her.

“This isn’t about Jesse,” I assured her. “I actually called because I was wondering if you might know the best way to get in touch with his friend Cassidy.”

And then she let out a loud laugh that even through the phone conveyed joyful relief.

“Funny you should ask that,” she said, her inflection bright again. “He was askin' about you yesterday after the service.”

My heartbeat may have been audible through the phone receiver, and I managed to hold back a squeal in the back of my throat that was threatening to burst out.

“I couldn’t tell him much,” Emily continued. “But I did let him know you come from a good, Christian family. I was actually going to talk to your ma about it next Sunday, so it’s good you called.”

God, I was glad she hadn’t.

“Do you happen to have his phone number or know how I might be able to reach him?” I asked.

“You know, I don’t think he has a phone,” Emily thought out loud. “But he lives in the church attic, and always seems to sleep all day, so he shouldn’t be too hard to track down.”

I was sure I hadn’t heard that right, but I was afraid to follow up on it. Instead, I thanked her for her help. When she asked me if she could count on seeing me in church the following Sunday, I said yes—and alarmingly, I meant it.

Once the call had ended, I didn’t feel like I could move for a good five minutes. I simply found myself staring in the mirrored doors of my bedroom closet, breathing as deeply and deliberately as I could manage to calm myself down. I showered again, each step taking way too long as I retraced the details of my dream again and again and definitely shampooed at least twice in my distraction.

Once I’d gotten out and dried off, I had the unfortunate job of figuring out what to wear. Cassidy had complimented me in the irritating church dress I’d only worn to appease mama, so would he expect that again? Should I get all dolled up, or would that set a standard I could never live up to? Eventually, I settled for something that would make me feel most at ease—an airy maroon T-shirt and my favorite jeans that always made my ass look good—and spritzed myself with a woodsy, sweet fragrance before looking in the mirror again, somehow happy enough with how I looked to work up the courage to head back to the church.

I was on autopilot the whole drive there. I’m not sure I mentally registered a single turn or stoplight as I practiced what I might say to Cassidy when I saw him. I mean, it was simple. I’d had a troubling dream about him, and I just wanted to make sure he was okay. Or was that the weirdest thing you could say to a person? I felt a lot more comfortable going with that than telling him we'd made love and then spontaneously combusted. Maybe I could tell a white lie about needing to return to the church for some other reason, but I struggled to come up with one.

I was still at a loss when I arrived, my car kicking up great clouds of dust as I parked out front. As I approached the entrance, I almost hoped the doors would be locked, and I could turn around and abandon this whole mad scheme. Instead, the entryway creaked open when I pulled at one of the doorknobs, and I let myself inside. I figured you couldn’t really trespass if it was church grounds at daytime, even if it didn’t look like there was a soul for miles.

When I spied a set of stairs to the right side of the lobby, I took a wild guess and decided to head up them. I wasn't even at the top of the first flight when Cassidy appeared around a corner, as if by magic, and we both stopped in our tracks.

He was naked from the waist up, with what appeared to be a bedsheet wrapped around his waist like a towel, exposing the tattoos that wrapped in hypnotizing patterns up his long arms. He was utterly captivating, and I couldn't believe that just yesterday I could have ignored him for even a second. Now, wearing an absurdly wide grin, he was the most gorgeous man I'd ever laid eyes upon.

His hair was damp, and he smelled of cheap soap with an overtly masculine musk, but it suited him. Somehow, he didn't seem at all surprised to see me there.

"Back so soon, Ada?” He asked. I didn’t know if he was _trying_ to be seductive, but his warm tone made my legs feel like jelly. My heart beat so hard I could hear it in my ears, making it difficult for me to even begin to try to form the right words to say. I knew I couldn’t hold back the smile that was forming across my face, or the blush growing in my cheeks, and I was thankful when he kept talking.

"Forgive... this," he said, holding the blanket firmly to his body and looking around the stairwell for anything else he might be able to clothe himself with. I realized I was staring and tried to subtly avert my gaze. “Caught me on laundry day. You wouldn't be willing to lend a hand, by any chance?"

It took me way too long to answer as I attempted to form a coherent response. "I'd be delighted," I somehow put the words together, trying to keep my cool and failing badly. I let him pass me, and then followed him and his bizarre sheet wrap back down the stairs, along the somber church aisle and into a little house out back, stealing long, hard glances of his lean body as I trailed and listened as he tried to explain himself.

“When I landed here, see, my uniform was ruined,” he said, and I nodded along, even though I wasn’t sure what he was rambling about. “Me only option, if I wanted not to go naked, y’know, was to borrow what I could, and that’s how I landed in the ensemble you’ve seen. It’ll work until I can get meself some proper clothes. You understand.”

I don’t know if I did, but his explanation seemed earnest, and even though a red alert was going off in a small backroom of my brain telling me I must me headed into some kind of murder chamber, his easy demeanor and strange sense of confidence put me at ease. And this was a church, after all.

I was slightly relieved to find that the laundry area was in a quaint—if not outdated—kitchen, and not in some dimly lit basement down a set of creaky steps. The dryer was up top, and I stood behind him as he popped the door open, scooped a thin layer of lint out of the trap, and then reached his arms in to pull out his clothes. I should have suspected that it wouldn’t be a full load of laundry. Instead, the dryer's only contents were the outfit I’d seen him in the day before—the rodeo shirt, jeans, a plaid shirt, a pair of boxer briefs and a denim vest.

“Excuse me, love,” he said, gesturing, and then plopped the freshly laundered pile into my extended arms. Warmth radiated off it as the delicate smell of floral laundry detergent filled my nostrils. I thought he was going to ask me to help him carry it all elsewhere, but then he plucked the underwear from the top of the stack and slid them on under the blanket before he shed the sheet entirely and tossed it aside. From there, he carefully took each item from me one by one, dressing himself right there in front of me. He was so casual about it that I wasn’t sure if it was bizarre or hilarious or erotic. With Cassidy, almost everything seemed like a perfect blend of the three.

When he was done, he swiped imaginary dust off his jeans with his palms. “Good as new, eh?” he said.

I was dumbstruck. “You weren’t kidding about one ensemble.”

“It may seem strange,” he waggled a finger at no one, “but listen, I wash me clothes every morning. I’m not an animal.” He laughed with a low snort, and then the playful look on his face disappeared, replaced by a contemplative one. “I do apologize, I’ve barely let you get more’n a couple’a words in since you arrived. I do tend to ramble on around people I like. And I really do like you, Ada.”

And then, for once, he was actually silent, gazing deep into my eyes, like he was probing me for the answers. I had to use every ounce of my willpower to resist grabbing him by the lapel and kissing him right then and there. Somehow I held back, and instead I reached out and clasped his warm, clammy hands in mind as I stared back up at him.

“I like you, too, Cass,” I said softly, and I noticed his posture ease slightly. “How about we get to know each other?"

“Y'know, I think it’s time we did."

He smiled wide and then led me by my right hand just a few steps to the back of the room. He pulled a chair out for me at one end of a small table beneath a wall-mounted decorative fork and spoon. I sat, and then he took the opposite seat, folding his hands out in front of him as he looked at me expectantly. He said nothing, but I could tell he wanted me to talk.

“What would you like to know about me?” I asked, trying to sound confident but feeling a bit foolish. I’d always found it a lot easier to figure out other people and their thinking and their motives than to clearly suss out what was going on inside my own head. But even though I had no idea where to start, Cassidy made me feel comfortable. He wasn't trying to put me on the spot. Instead, it seemed like he was genuinely curious.

“Firstly,” he started, “how does a lovely young lady such as yourself wind up in a place like bloody Annville?”

“It’s a shithole, but it’s technically home,” I said. "Born here. Raised here. And every last thing about it rubs me the wrong way."

“So why come back?" It was an honest question.

"Oh, I don't live in Annville," I answered quickly, not realizing until the words came out that I sounded slightly insulted. "It's just that you only have to step outside the town and things start feeling cleaner and clearer and brighter. I'm not far, but I'm far enough."

“I don’t take you for a Texas girl,” he said. “You don’t sound like them.” I felt flattered.

“I was gone for a long time,” I explained. “L.A. will do that to you. But the city didn’t really take, and Texas called."

"Your beau back in California," Cass started, "did you live together?"

“Nah,” I said. “He never could commit to much of anything. Barely even had me stay the night, and we were together nine years.”

“Well, he was a fuckin’ idjit for ever letting you leave his sight,” Cassidy said, reaching an arm against the table to grab my hand, and I’m sure I blushed.

“Good riddance,” I said looking him straight in the eye, and he met me with the warmest, softest smile.

“And that woman with you, at church, was that your ma?” he asked.

I nodded. “We don’t really get along or see eye to eye on much of anything,” I explained. "She's always been real religious, but after my Pa died when I was a kid, she started buying into some bad stuff. Put some nasty ideas in her head and we haven't been the same since. I honestly can't tell you why I ever agreed to come to church with her yesterday. But I suppose I’m really glad I did.”

That really got him smiling, and I swore that every time he flashed his sharp, sparkling teeth, I fell for him even more.

“You don’t have any ex-lovers here I need to worry about?” Cassidy joked.

“Nope,” I said, smiling back at him. “Anville boys never really did it for me.” He laughed, and I think he understood exactly what I meant. "But how about you? How exactly does an Irishman with a strong distaste for all things Annville wind up here?”

“Well, that’s quite the story, now, and I don’t know if you’re exactly ready to hear it.” His voice was mischievous and he had this twinkle in his eye, and I could tell he was desperate to divulge every detail, but he was holding back.

“Oh, you can tell me,” I pried, and then considered it for a second. “Unless it’s about a girl. Then I don’t want to hear it.”

“No, no, no,” he insisted. “It’s not. But it’s a story for a later date. Today is all about getting to know Miss Ada…”

“Yates,” I finished. “Ada Yates. Well, Adelaide, but I’ve always hated how it sounds. The folks around Annville pronounce it like it’s a sports drink for inbreds, so I shorten it.”

“Adelaide,” Cassidy repeated. His accent drew out just the right syllables to make my name sound like music, and he knew it. He said it again a couple of times and then laughed.

“Okay, you’re encouraged to call me Adelaide,” I said. “But you tell no one. And how about you, _Cassidy_?”

I’d said the name pointedly, and when a suspicious look crossed his face, I knew I was on to something.

“It’s your last name, isn’t it?” I asked. “And I’m guessing you’re not the biggest fan of your first.”

“It’s old school, alright?” he said, just the slightest hint of defensiveness tinting his voice. “The name's not for modern audiences.”

He paused, and I could tell he wasn’t going to spit it out unless I coaxed it out of him.

“Please tell me,” I said, as gently as possible. “I promise I won’t make fun _and_ I’ll sweeten the deal. Let’s set our next date. Just name a time and place, and I’ll be there.”

“It’s Proinsias,” he said, without a moment’s hesitation. “So how’s Saturday, here at sunset?”

It was Monday afternoon, and Saturday felt like an eternity away, but there was no chance in hell I going to turn him down.

“It’s a deal,” I said. “Now… can you spell that for me?”


	3. Sunset Picnic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassidy and Ada go on their first date

I’d never experienced a longer week. Sure, I’d had enough busy work to complete between Monday and Saturday to prevent me from absolutely losing my mind, but having to wait five days before seeing Cassidy again felt like torture. More than once, I’d contemplated driving up and surprising him again, but I resisted that temptation. I felt this illogically powerful pull to him. This must have been the giddy schoolgirl crush I’d been missing out on all these years.

I simply couldn’t stop thinking about him. Not a moment passed without me daydreaming about that mischievous smile of his, and what it might finally be like to hold him close. I almost felt like I’d been drugged, and even though this process of longing was a massive distraction from everything I needed to be doing, the thought of simply being in the same room as him again was enough to keep me going.

Our Saturday night date, Cassidy had informed me before I left on Monday, would be a casual picnic. He’d told me not to do anything too fancy, and I was having a little bit of trouble sticking to the brief. This time, picking out an outfit was easy—my favorite jeans, a white tee and a cute leather jacket—but packing a picnic basket presented far too many opportunities to select the wrong things or botch the prep and end up with something inedible. And he didn’t even have a phone, yet, for me to call him up and ask him my million questions.

After exactly five days of overthinking, I finally settled on making simple club sandwiches on crispy baguettes from a local bakery, homemade potato salad, plus a pasta salad and a small but definitely decadent chocolate cake for two for dessert. It all looked so quaint wrapped up in its gingham cloth, and I prayed that the whole thing wouldn’t make me come off as the ultimate square.

When I arrived at the church, the sun was low in the sky and ready to set. I let myself in and climbed the two sets of stairs toward the attic. I actually hadn’t seen the space earlier, as Cass had told me it was unfit for human eyes, so I had mentally prepared myself for a disaster zone. At the top of the steps, there was a shabby wooden door, and I approached and rapped on it with my knuckles three times. Within a split second, Cassidy had already opened the door. He flashed his signature smile at me as he welcomed me in with an open arm.

To my surprise, the attic wasn’t a mess. Instead, it looked like something out of a home decor magazine. The high ceiling was composed of angled wooden beams, and strong oak planks lined the floor. Tall white church candles were scattered around the edges of the attic below the sharply arched walls, lighting the room with a flickering golden hue. At the far end of the room, shipping pallets had been painted a rich dark blue to fashion a bed frame, and the mattress that topped it was covered in gleaming white sheets.

In the center of the room, a red and white checkered blanket was laid out like a picnic cloth, and two silver communion chalices were already set out, filled to the brim with red wine. In terms of drink, he was well prepared—there were at least a dozen and a half bottles of wine filling two boxes in the corner of the room.

I was in awe of the space, and when I finally looked back at Cassidy, he was looking at me expectantly.

“This is gorgeous,” I said in awe as I sidled up next to him. “I take it that it doesn’t always look like this?”

“No,” he said, like that was absurd. “But I can be quite handy when I feel like it.”

He wrapped an arm around me, and I felt lighter than air. After a sweltering hot week, it was an unusually crisp and cool night, and the ambiance couldn’t be more perfect. We admired the atmosphere of the room before he gestured to the picnic area for me to take a seat.

I set down the picnic basket and then sat, cross-legged, on one edge of the cloth as I started arranging everything between us. He laid out across it on his side, leaning casually on one elbow and crossing his legs as he watched me unpack.

“Oh well, now you’re makin' me look bad,” he said as I removed the basket’s contents. “Had I known you would’ve done this much, I could’ve put in a little effort.” I laughed.

“Oh shush, Proinsias,” I said. “This is beyond perfect.”

By the time everything was ready to eat, we were both glowing. I was delighted to see him absolutely go to town on the food, complimenting it between big mouthfuls and gulps of wine. If he didn’t like my cooking, he was the world’s greatest liar. I, on the other hand, was teeming with butterflies and could only nibble at my meal, and never being much of a drinker, taking only small sips of the sickly sweet wine.

“By the way,” I reminded him once he’d wolfed down his sandwich, “it’s your turn to spill the dirt.”

“What dirt was that love?” he asked, knowing exactly what I meant.

“How you got to Annville,” I reminded him gently.

He made a grunting sound, and then sat upright.

“I just want you to be prepared for some wild shite, right?” he said. “Ya got to believe every word I say is true.”

“Deal,” I agreed, but he didn’t look convinced. He took a deep breath and that told me everything.

“So I’d been in living in Vegas for quite a few years, most lately working as a croupier dealing blackjack at the Babylon, right, when these wealthy blokes invited me out to entertain on their private jet to Tijuana.” He paused to make sure I was keeping up, and I gestured for him to keep going. “Well, they promise coke, and whiskey, and mini golf—the whole nine yards—and I’ve never been one to pass up on an opportunity for a bit of amusement. So we’re havin’ a grand ol' time, doing all the things promised, but then I’m in the bog, mindin’ me own business, when I stumble upon this bible, see, and it turns out they’re fuckin’ huntin’ me. I try to bring it up like a gentleman, but they want a fight, and they’ve got the battle axes and crossbows to prove it. I’m winnin’, o’ course, but an arrow busts through the control panel so the plane starts goin’ down. I have no choice but to jump out the plane with no chute, right, and when I come to, I’m a fuckin’, mess, blood everywhere, umbrella in tatters. My uniform was wrecked, and these were the only bloody clothes I could find. And that’s how I got meself stuck in Annvile Texas.”

He’d clearly been dying to get it all out, and when he was finished, the expression on his face conveyed a mixture of frenzied adrenaline, and relief, and worry. Suddenly, everything was falling into place, even though I might have looked dumbfounded.

"Y'see,” he said, “There’s something about meself you have to know.”

I wasn’t sure how to approach the situation, so I just blurted it out.

"You're a vampire," I said, attempting to smooth any ounce of judgment out of my voice.

His posture shifted then, and I didn't know whether he was relieved or disappointed, but I knew I was right.

“When I came to see you last week,” I explained, “I’d just had a dream about you. It was a good one, until it wasn’t. You burst into flames in the sunlight. I wanted to see you to be sure you were okay. Didn’t really understand what it meant until right now.”

He was quiet for a second, but then he smiled.

“So, you dreamed about me?” he asked, putting on a playful demeanor.

“Yes,” I said, not ready to tell him it about the rest of the dream—or the fact that it wasn’t the only time I’d dreamed about him in the last week, “but let’s get back to the important stuff.”

“Most people don’t jump to vampire,” he said, a little suspicious now. “Nobody, in fact.”

“I know it sounds wild,” I explained, “but when I was a little girl, my Pa would tell me these stories, like fairytales, about this woman. She was strong, and beautiful, and she always did the right thing and stood by people when they needed her most. Everyone loved her, but the thing was, she couldn’t go out in the daytime, and when the people found out, they turned against her.”

“Kind of dark for a children’s fairytale, don’t you think?” Cassidy commented.

“I always found the tales so heroic,” I said. “Even with the tragic ending, they always rang true to me. The way Pa described her, with her pale white skin and long, flowing dark hair, I always had such a clear image of her in my head. And then one day, when I was rifling through his old records, out falls this stack of old photographs, and there she was, standing in the photos, right next to Pa. I was a kid, you see, and I had no reservations asking him about it. Turns out, she was the real deal. It’s why he always taught me to judge people based on their actions, and not just who or what they may or not pray to. They’d been in love when he was young, before he met my Momma, but the folks round here didn’t take too kindly to what they see as an affront to God, and they left her out to burn.”

“So if I were like her—an affront to God I mean—what would you have to say about it?”

“Who gives a shit?” I said “I know that the man in front of me is a good person. That’s what matters.”

“But Annville,” he said, “you’re not telling me it’s packed with vampire hunters, are you?”

“No, nothing like that,” I assured him. “Just the people were,” I searched for the right word, “intolerant.”

“I just worry, y’know,” he said, talking faster. “I couldn’t deal with you getting caught in the crossfire. They’re serious, and I can handle being shot and slashed, but my conscience couldn’t rest if something were to happen to ya.”

He was getting frantic now, and I scooted closer to him to lessen the distance between as.

“It’s not going to happen, Cass,” I reassured him.

“It’s just I’m not such a nice guy, really,” he said, frowning and just turning away from me. “There’s more to me than you know. For example, I’ve killed people. Lots of people.”

I inched closer to him and turned his face back toward me with my hand, looking him straight in the eye.

“I can live with that,” I said, and I meant it. He put his hand over mine, holding it to the side of his face before he lowered it in front of him, clasping my hand with both of his. “I mean, unless you just murder folks for the fun of it.”

“Well, no…” he started.

"Were they trying to kill you?"

"Yeah."

“Then what’s the big deal?”

“That’s not all,” he said. “What else? I lie. I cheat. I steal. I do drugs. All of them. Frequent whore houses. That kind of ting.”

“So, you’re warning me you’ll cheat?” I asked. He looked taken aback.

“Not on your life,” he promised.

“And what drugs have you been on since we’ve met?”

“Well, none,” he said, “but that’s only because I don’t have any money.”

“And you haven’t tried to swindle me yet?” I continued.

“I wouldn’t,” he said. “Not you.”

“Then what are you so worried about?” I asked him. He had to consider that for a moment. "You're the one who should be concerned about me. I have the power to bore people to death."

“No,” He shook his head. "You could never be boring."

"Well then, we’re even," I added, now feeling stronger. Cassidy paused again.

“So what you’re tellin' me is you’re ready and willing to put up with a 119-year-old vampire with not a penny to his name, a drug problem, and a thirst for blood?”

“As long as you don’t try to bite me, why not?”

“Never joke about that,” he said gently as he leaned forward to kiss me on the lips. He was so tender and delicate, and it was as if our lips barely touched. His kiss tasted faintly of copper and left me feeling as if every drop of blood coursing through my body had rushed directly to my head, leaving me faint and dizzy, stretching out seconds into an eternity. It was nothing like I’d dreamed, but it was everything I needed it to be.

My head still spinning from everything I’d learned, the sweet innocence of it all made my heart flutter. When we parted, his gaze was so gentle and loving it made my heart feel like bursting in my chest, and though neither of us uttered a word for a long while, it was as if we’d both made an unspoken agreement not to ruin the moment by pushing it any further. Instead, I simply rested my head on his shoulder, and we sat there in long silence for a while, enjoying the bliss of the moment.

After a long, sacred pause there, I finally broke the silence.

“I nearly forgot,” I whispered, digging into a small pocket on the picnic basket. As soon as I’d discovered he didn’t have a phone, I realized that was something that had to be remedied immediately. When I finally located it, I pulled out the crappy prepaid burner phone with aplomb and handed it to him.

“No, I told you not to spend any money on me,” he said, but he looked pleased.

“Well, I didn’t want to have to call Emily, to get to Jesse, to get to you,” I explained. “Nothing better than a direct line. Now, I’ll never be more than a phone call away.”

He turned it on and played around with the phone for a second, figuring out what was where. When he finally got to the contacts list, he saw that I’d already programed my info in there for him.

“Adelaide,” he read lyrically, sending happy goosebumps down my arms. Then he pressed something, and then my phone starting ringing. He had the softest, goofiest look on his face then.

“You really think I’m gonna buy you a prepaid phone and then give you a fake number?” I laughed.

“You never know!” he said. “I’m just bein’ safe.” The moment sent us both into a fit of laughter. Then he messed around with the phone some more.

“How much was this?” he finally asked me. “I promise I’ll pay ya back.”

“You can worry about that when you actually get paid,” I said. "You _are_ working as the handyman here, right? Jesse should be paying you sometime or another."

"You’re right. I’ll get on that. And when I do, I’ll be able to take you on a real date,” he said. I noticed he was glancing over my shoulder as he did so. When I looked back to see what he saw, I noticed the small metal cage topped with a large fan in the corner of the room. The panel was wide open, and colorful wires hung disconnected from the box.

“What is that?” I asked.

“Air conditioner,” he answered.

"Do you know how to fix it?”

"I have an idea," he said, but his tone said he had none.

"Here," I said, gesturing for his phone. He handed it to me. "Let's take a look."

Being a dozen decades old meant Cass wasn't completely familiar with the wonders of YouTube, and it only took 20 minutes to get through a few tutorials that revealed exactly what needed to happen (and the two parts he'd need to pick up) to get ice cold air blasting through the halls of the chapel again.

After that, we were up all night telling stories and cracking each other up. Of course, all of his tales managed to be much, much more fascinating that mine. And no matter how much of that cloying church wine Cassidy drank, bottle after bottle, he never seemed to get drunker.

At some point in the wee hours of the morning, I dozed off. When I finally woke up just after noon, I'd been relocated to Cassidy's large, cushy bed, and he was looking up at me sweetly from a leaning position on the floor. I suppose I'd ruined my promise to Emily, because I'd slept through the entire service, and when the time came for me to leave, Cass helped me to sneak out of the place and go unseen, sneaking around as churchgoers were being baptized in tubs out front. Still feeling giddy, my heart racing, I knew I'd made the right choice.


	4. Drive-In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassidy comes into a bit of money (and a truck) and takes Ada out for the night

Throughout the day, it became abundantly clear that Cassidy, while seemingly proficient with his new phone, had missed out on a decade and a half of texting etiquette. He was truly awful at it, refusing to spell out entire words, making up abbreviations that meant nothing and adding emojis to texts I thought I’d understood, suddenly to be thrown off by a face conveying the opposite emotion. Still, I had no complaints. I was thrilled every time one came my way, and every ping of my phone was a mighty injection of dopamine straight into the brain.

In fact, I got so used to it that when my phone rang, just past 11 at night, it startled me to the point of nearly jumping out of my seat. When I saw that it was from Cass, I probably picked it up _too_ fast.

“Adelaide,” he drew out the name, teasing me. I couldn’t make out exactly what was happening in the background, but it sounded noisy. “Have you eaten?”

It was late, but I’d been distracted today, and hadn’t yet gotten around to preparing myself something.

“I haven’t,” I said, excited. “But I could definitely go for a bite. Did you need me pick something up and swing by the church?”

“No, no, no,” he said, “I got this one. Managed to get me hands on a wee bit of cash, and a truck for the night. It’s my turn to treat ya. I’m on me way.”

He ended the call before I could even respond, and while I didn’t want to call him back and distract him when he was on the road, I was deathly curious to see what he might have up his sleeve.

He arrived so quickly that it was obvious he hadn’t even considered trying to obey the posted speed limits. It was a warm night, so I had the main door wide open, allowing some of the cool evening air to come in through the screen door. I spotted him through the grating the moment he arrived, and when he saw that I'd seen him, he sweetly gave me a goofy little wave.

I raced over to let him in, opening the door, and the second I did, he stuck out a tiny white daisy that he’d no doubt plucked somewhere along the path from the church to here. It was such a delicate little thing, and I accepted it in one hand and inhaled its earthy perfume.

I was about to thank him for it, but then he came in close and enthusiastically pressed his lips against mine, and my head felt like it was spinning. The touch of his hard, lean body against mine was almost too much to bear, but then he broke away and put a distance back between us.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he said. There was such an intensity to his face when he was like this. Even when he was smiling, there was always a kind of heartbreaking sadness in his eyes when he pulled away from me.

”Anyhow, I have some money,” he held up a black leather wallet, “and wheels,” he jangled a keyring, “so let’s go have a little fun, shall we?”

He took me by the hand and led me outside to where the truck was parked. One glance at the retro Ford pickup, and I knew he must’ve borrowed it from his pal Jesse.

“Where is Jess, anyway?” I asked as he fumbled with the keys of the strange truck, struggling to get us both inside.

“He’s at the church. Indisposed,” he replied, slyly.

“Uh huh.” He knew I was on to him, and I think I even managed to make him feel a little bit guilty as we both hopped in.

“I’ve borrowed the money, alright?” he said, and his voice defensively pitched upward as he started the ignition. “And I’m not goin’ to spend it all. It’s just time I treated you to something nice.”

I think he expected a bit more of a protest, but I wasn’t interested.

“Thank you, Cass,” I said. “You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

“I…” he stopped, and then looked over at me and saw that I wasn’t going to pursue it. He put on a lopsided smile as he backed out of the parking space. “Jesse’s an understandin’ bloke, y’know. Little somethin’ like that. He won’t mind much.”

“How long have you and Jesse been best friends, anyhow?” I asked him.

“Oh,” Cass did some mental math, taking the steering wheel with one hand to start counting fingers with the other. “A coupla weeks, give or take.”

“I’m being serious,” I said, and then I looked at him, and there was nothing jokey about the expression on his face. “You _are_ being serious. Alright.”

“With some people, you just _know_ you’re s’posed to be in their life, alright.” That hit home. “When you find them, you don’t let go so easy.”

“And does he know about you? Being a vampire, I mean.”

“As circumstance would have it, I told him just tonight,” Cass said. “For a religious feller, he was very understandin’. That’s just how he is, y’see”

I realized I was staring at him again, but it didn’t last for long because in a few moments I learned that Cassidy’s driving was absolutely deranged. We were moving far too fast through poorly lit town streets, and I was very glad I’d buckled my seatbelt because we were bouncing all over. I thought it was just his style, but when he ran a stop sign and nearly clipped the only car we’d seen since we hit the road, I had to chime in.

“Do you mind driving like you’re not immortal?” I asked him, and then we screeched to a jarring and abrupt halt, sending my stomach churning.

“Shite, I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it. “Too fast?”

“Too fast,” I repeated. “Too everything. If you’re not careful, you’re gonna make me sick.”

“Look, I hear you,” he said, “Let’s do this right,” and then started the truck back up, but at this time at a normal, human pace.

“And if you could maybe obey some traffic signals, I’d really appreciate it,” I said. He nodded back at me.

“Right, right,” he said, and even though after a couple of minutes he was definitely speeding again, I no longer felt that my life might be in danger.

It wasn’t too long before he pulled off the highway, and I realized that I hadn’t even asked him where we were going. Immediately, it became clear when the giant neon lights of the local drive-in came into view. In the week since I’d moved back to Texas, I’d driven past it maybe a dozen times, but I hadn’t seriously considered going there—mostly because I’d never been to a drive-in, and not knowing the etiquette completely stressed me out.

Once we’d pulled in and he’d parked the truck, I was really starting to feel anxious. He gave me a soft, concerned look.

“You okay, love?” he asked, placing a hand gently on my knee.

“It’s dumb,” I said, my words coming out fast, “but I’ve never eaten at a drive-in before and I don’t know how it works and I think I’m panicking?”

“Hey, hey,” he said, scooting down the bench to be closer to me and wrapping his arms around me. “Breathe.”

I felt so much better just settling into his arms. His reassuring grip was just what I needed.

“It’s okay to feel that way,” he continued, “We’re all entitled to a bit of a freak out here and there, eh? I’ve had several just today, y’know. We can go elsewhere if that’ll make you more comfortable?”

I thought about it for a moment.

“No,” I said. “This will be okay. I think you’ve talked me down. Thanks for understanding.”

“Any time,” he said, and when he let go I just wanted his arms back around me. “Tell me what else I can do and it’s done.”

“If you can take the lead with all this, I’d be super grateful.”

“O’ course.”

It turns out going to the drive-in wasn’t a big deal after all, and Cassidy ordered for the both of us without a hitch, unless you counted his struggle with Jesse’s infuriating window crank when the waiter arrived. When the food came—Cassidy ordered fish ’n’ chips, and I got a cheeseburger and (at Cass’s insistence) an Elvis-inspired milkshake with peanut butter, jelly, banana and bacon blended in—we told stories and snickered as we ate.

When I noticed that Cass wasn’t being careful about making a mess, I chided him a bit.

“You don’t go stealing your best mate’s truck and getting ketchup all over the seats. That’s just rude,” I told him.

“Jaysis,” he said, reaching for the napkins and spreading them around. “But you’re right. You’re right.”

“I warned you I was a bore,” I said.

“No. You could never be borin’,” he replied. “What ya are is careful. It’s one o’ the things I like most about you. You care about things. Wanna make sure they get done the right way. It’s nothin’ to be ashamed about.”

“And that doesn’t fly in the face of everything you stand for?” I asked.

“No. You know me,” he said. “I don’t stand for anything. I just live my life, try to enjoy meself and try not to inconvenience too many people along the way, if I can help it.”

“Is that last part true?” I asked.

“It is, now that I’ve met you.”

I don’t know if it was the food or the company, but it might have been the best burger I’d had in my life. The rich, sometimes sweet, sometimes savory milkshake was irresistible, and we both took turns sipping at it and its thousand calories until it was completely drained. We sat there for a long while chatting after that, and we must’ve overstayed our welcome, because at one point the waiter came and rapped on Cassidy‘s window again.

This time, he had a slightly better grasp of how to get the glass down, but it still took a moment. The place was closing for the night, and he was there to collect our trays and plates. Shortly afterward, the neon lights were out, the workers all drove their own cars away and the place was basically pitch black for what looked like miles around. I couldn’t see a thing inside the interior of Jesse’s truck. I reached for Cass’s hand in the dark.

“Are you scared?” Cassidy asked.

I could be a bit of a wimp in the dark, especially when I would let my imagination run wild with all the horrible things that might be hiding in the black, but right now, knowing he was there beside me, I felt perfectly safe.

“No, I’m okay.” I said. “How about you?”

“Vampire, remember? The dark is me friend. But let me show you somethin’.”

He opened his door before stepping out and closing it shut, and for a second, alone in the darkness, the feeling of isolation really did start to creep me out. But then I heard the door pop open on my side, and I felt his hand reaching out for me. I grabbed it, and then he helped me safely step out into the darkness.

“Look up,” he said, and when I did, the sky was full of more stars than I had probably seen in my lifetime. It was stunning, and I don’t know how long I stared up at it.

Then he gently tugged on my hand, and then took me around to the back of the truck. He messed around with it for a second, and then found the handle to pop down the gate. Next, he helped me hop up into the bed of the truck, and then jumped into it with me before slamming the gate shut.

He laid down on the truck bed, and then whispered, “Come here.” I moved over to him, and he pulled me in until I was resting on his chest, and then we gazed back up at the stars together for a long while.

It was so wonderful simply being here with him like this, and I was comforted by the sound and feel of his heartbeat. It was so perfect that I didn’t even realize how chilly it was getting out until a strong shiver overtook my body.

“Oh no, I’m a fuckin’ eedjit," he said. “Get up for a second, will ya?” As I moved and he sat up, my eyes were only slightly adjusting, and in the dark I could see his silhouette removing layers of clothing. It wasn’t long before his long-sleeved shirt and vest were draped over me, already warm from Cassidy’s body heat. Suddenly, it felt like all the cold had melted away.

“You won’t be cold?” I asked? Now, he was just in a T-shirt and jeans.

“A little cold never hurt me,” he said, and then laid back down and then held me back me to his chest. Again, we found ourselves captivated by the twinkling stars.

“You’re not gonna start teaching me about all the constellations now, are you?” I joked.

“Oh, no.” he said. “I don’t really know anything about that. I know there’s a Big Dipper and a little one, but I couldn’t tell you which ones they are.”

“You know, Cass, that’s exactly how I like it.”

“We could always make up our own?” Cassidy suggested.

“Oh yeah?” I asked. “Like what?”

“See that really really bright one right there?” I knew it was Sirius, but I didn’t say anything.

“Mhm,” I humored him.

“That one’s Adelaide.”

It was all so sweet and silly that I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“You know, Ada,” he crooned. “I can never get enough of the sound of your laugh.”

“Well you’re a funny guy, so you’re going to hear a lot of it,” I replied.

And then out of the dark, I felt him move and saw his shadow come over me. That was when he kissed me again, hot and hard on the lips, and this time, it wasn’t gentle sweetness behind it, but raw passion. His hot, sweet taste was utterly intoxicating, and I felt as if all of my senses were heightened, every smell making me drunker, every touch completely titillating. The feeling was brand new, and I didn’t know how to handle it but to completely give in.

When he finally came up for air and our lips parted, I pressed my body firmly against his, and I could feel his hard erection pushing against me through his jeans.

“God, I want you, Cass,” I gasped, leaning up into him.

“Fuck, I want you, too.”

And then he kissed me again, hands beginning to explore my body, until he settled on my chest. His firm touch was enough to drive me wild, each point of pressure sending pangs of pleasure down my entire body. In just moments, I was so fucking wet I couldn’t stand it anymore. He’d just begun nibbling softly on my ear when I had to do something about it.

“Oh fuck, I can’t take it anymore,” I murmured. “Please fuck me, Cassidy.”

“Can you do me a favor first,” he whispered softly in my ear.

“Anything.” I felt desperate.

“Reach into the front pocket of my vest.”

I did, and pulled out a single condom.

“Fucking cheeky,” I said, tossing it to him, but I don’t even know if I was smiling because I was too caught up in the ecstasy.

We both helped to undress each other silently in the dark, me shedding the layers he’d lent me on top of what I’d already been wearing. He took the clothes and set them all out in the truck bed to make the space as comfortable as possible. I laid down on top of them, and then he was on top of me, and he kissed me again, roughly on the lips as he pushed his big cock deep into my wet pussy.

“Oh fuck,” I had to cry out, and very suddenly I realized we were in an incredibly public place, kept hidden only by the dark, and that somehow that only made me want him more.

He stopped. “You okay, love?” he asked softly.

“Oh god, yes, Cass,” I moaned. “Don’t stop.” He pressed into me again, filling me with such bliss that I could barely breathe. God, he felt so fucking good, and I had to restrain myself from crying out and cursing with every pulse of his body toward mine. I couldn’t help but wrap my hands around his shoulders, pushing myself into him with every stroke, driving him deeper and deeper. These sensations were like nothing else I’d ever experienced and I was desperate to soak in every second of it, yearning to be against him for as long as humanly possible. He didn't disappoint, going and going, rhythmically and consistently, like some kind of machine.

The simple sound of him breathing and gasping, enjoying himself as he fucked me, drove me absolutely wild, and at last, I gave up on trying to hold in every ecstatic moan and cry. I simply couldn't keep them in any longer.

God, he had stamina, and I felt like I would’ve been happy to have stayed there, eagerly being made love to for an eternity. I took deep pleasure in writhing with him there, breathing in his scent and taking his huge, stiff cock as it pounded into me.

And then, finally, he muttered, "Jaysis, I'm gonna cum." And then his strokes got somehow even harder and faster and I had to yell out in pleasure as he made the most glorious sounds of ecstasy I'd ever heard. When he finally stopped and rested on top of me, the sweat collecting in droplets across his body, I pulled him down into my hair and never wanted to let him go, caught up in an ecstatic delirium.

When he got off, I felt slightly dazed. Getting dressed again felt nearly impossible in the dark, but eventually I managed. I think Cass was staring at me from the shadows. He kissed me on the temple.

"You can barely keep your eyes open, love," he said softly. "Let me take you home."

"Mhmm," I responded, blearily, and he helped me down out of the truck bed and back into the passenger seat.

I don't remember a thing about the drive after that.

I recall pieces of arriving home, heading up the steps back to my apartment, and getting tucked neatly into bed before a good night kiss. Then, I recall being jolted awake just after sunrise by the jarring ring of my phone. I would have just ignored it, but it was Cass.

"Adelaide, he said, panting, "I need ya. Could you stop by again after sunset?"


	5. Dig

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassidy updates Ada after a dangerous encounter

"Are you _sure_ you don't need any help?" I asked as a shirtless Cassidy shoveled crumbly piles of dirt from a big hole in the ground, illuminated by my car's headlights. The work looked miserable, and as much as I hated the thought of getting all muddy and exhausted and having my hands covered in blisters, I wasn't much a fan of watching him toil, regardless of the way the perspiration made his tattooed skin glisten and his muscles bulge.

“No,” he drew the word out insistently. "I just wanted the company, and I figured there's no one I’d rather spend the time with than yerself."

When he’d called and asked me to come tonight, he’d only said that the situation was pretty deadly stuff—the kind best not discussed over the phone. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t watching on as my vampiric lover dug a hole big enough to bury a massive trunk, dripping with the blood of two dismantled vampire hunters. This was not how I’d ever intended to spend my Tuesday nights in Annville, but to be fair, I was simply happy to be here. After my first mind-blowing experience of sleeping with him, I was thrilled Cass still wanted me around at all.

Messy as the life of a vampire might be, if he thought a little something like this would deter me from wanting to be near him, he was dead wrong.

He’d walked me through most of the details of the fight as I first arrived, and as unlikely as it seemed that a couple of London-accented cowboys would travel the country to take him out with a chainsaw, it appeared to be the truth. I sensed that he added a couple of embellishments here and there, but honestly, the fact he was still trying to impress me was all good in my book. The trunk that reeked like a butcher shop after a power outage was only more proof.

Now, as he was hard at work with the shovel, I started wondering about him.

“Can I ask you some questions about being a vampire?” I asked when my curiosity had reached its limit.

“O’ course,” he said, using his full weight to push the head of the shovel into the cool, dry earth.

“So I know you can’t be in the sun,” I started, “But what else does it really _mean _for you to be a vampire?”

“Well, I can only speak for meself,” he said, “but the sunlight’s the main thing, aside from not gettin’ old. And if I get hurt, drinkin’ blood helps with the healin' process.”

“How does that work?” I asked, and then he paused, holding the shovel out with one hand and pointing at a specific spot on his stomach with the other.

“See the scar here?” he asked, and I creeped up closer to get a look.

“No,” I responded, searching hard.

“Well, that’s where I was shot earlier today,” he explained. “One little drink from one o’ these boys and the wound spit out the bullet and closed up nice and tidy.”

“Does it have to be human blood?" I had to know.

“Not necessarily,” he said, resuming his digging. “Animal works in a pinch, but human’s always best. And live seems to work better than the bagged stuff. Couldn’t tell ya why.”

“And these hunters,” I wondered aloud, “do they come wielding stakes and crosses and holy water?”

“Sometimes," he said. "But I wanna letcha know, none o’ that stuff works, far as I can tell. Specially not garlic. Bloody love the stuff.”

I thought back to the picnic I’d prepared three night prior, and how I’d put extra garlic in everything, before I knew what he was. I was quite relieved I hadn’t accidentally killed him.

“Anything else I should know about?”

“Hmm,” he considered. “I don’t get really get sick. Immune to everything, y'see. And with my sleep off the sun’s clock, I have a perfectly tuned circadian rhythm.”

“Must be nice,” I said, thinking about all the stuff that tends to ail me. "So you never get colds, or headaches, or feel like throwing up?”

“Not colds,” he said, “but I have been in spots where drugs and drink, or a really fuckin’ aggressive carnival ride could do the rest, yeah.”

That got me thinking.

“What about STDs?”

“Don’t get ‘em,” he said, nonchalantly.

“Then why the condom?” I asked wryly, but I don’t think he could see me blush in the dark.

“Knowin’ you and your fastidious ways, I thought it might put ya at ease,” he explained. “I thought the whole conversation and explanation of condom, no condom might destroy the mood.”

Made sense.

"Does that mean that maybe next time we could go without?" and just the thought of there being a next time started to get me riled up.

"Now Adelaide, don’t you go distracting me," he said, throwing a great heap of dirt over his shoulder. "But yes, I'd like that very much.” He paused. “You on the pill?”

"I _am_," I said. "Why, are you worried about knocking me up?"

He was quiet for a second.

"It's just you can never be too careful," he said.

"I hear you."

It had never once occurred to me that a vampire could have children, but it was an assumption based on no knowledge or reasoning whatsoever, besides stuff I'd seen on TV. I considered getting deeper into the question with Cassidy, but I figured it might not be super appropriate to discuss having kids after just two dates.

"I saw you putting down that wine the other night," I changed the subject." Bottle after bottle, and you didn't seem even buzzed. Is that a vampire thing?"

“Dunno for sure," he explained, “But me body can take quite a lot, and I've built up a bit of a tolerance to things over the last century."

"That include the drugs?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. "They don't actually do a whole lot to me, effects-wise. I just like ‘em, really. Something to do to fill the time, get me mind off things. But you, you're very straight-laced, that must make no sense to ya."

"Well, the more I know about you, the better sense it'll make," I said. “So you're not going through withdrawals now? It's been what, a couple weeks?"

"Oh they hit me, but it’s not too bad," he said. "Another benefit of being the way I am."

"I have one last question, and I want you to be honest with me."

"What is it?"

"Do you ever, I dunno... thirst for human blood?”

He was quiet for a moment, deliberating before he chose his words.

"Almost never," he finally said, quieter than usual. "And when I do, get an urge, I mean, I know not to act on it. Helps that occasionally someone's trying to murder me and I get a free pass. I replace it with other cravin's, if I can."

I could tell he didn't love talking about it, and now didn’t seem like the right time to get nosy.

"Thank you for being honest, Cass," I said. He simply gave a single, quiet nod in return.

Then there was a long silence, punctuated only be the sounds of metal into earth and flying dirt, before he spoke again.

"All right,” he finally said. “'Nough about me. My turn to ask you a question or two.“

"There isn't much about me to know," I said.

"Well, there's one thing that’s been on me mind all night," he said. "And excuse me if I'm bein' forward, but you looked pretty damn satisfied after our time together last night, but I don’t think ya, y'know, _peaked_. Not even once. I was wonderin' if it was just me or…"

"Oh," I blushed. "I’ve never come during sex." For whatever reason I always found talking about sex acutely embarrassing unless I basically was naked and in the act, but I was keen on being as open with him as I could.

"Never ever?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity more than anything else.

"Look," I explained. "I love being... made love to. And you, holy shit, you were incredible. But it doesn't get me there. Just the way it is.”

"Well," he said, grinning, "if you don’t mind, how 'bout we try a little harder next time, eh? And I'd love to know more about what we can do to push you over the brink, so to speak.”

The man was so fucking attractive, and the fact that he was even asking me these questions made me think I was going to overheat and combust.

"What do you like?" he asked. "Oral? Hands?"

"A little... touching... would be great," I stuttered. "And I've never had oral, but I'm _open_ to it…”

He stopped digging yet again.

"You're meanin' to tell me you're with a bloke for nearly a decade and he never goes down on ya?"

“Uh, yeah.” I admitted.

“Fuckin criminal,” he said. “Beautiful young lady like you should be treated right. How about positions? You’ve gotta have some favorite positions.”

“I’ve really only done missionary,” I said.

“Fuck’s sake,” he replied.

“As much as I do enjoy it, I’m definitely open to trying new things?” I said, barely getting the words out because I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation.

“And before this ex, there wasn’t anyone even slightly more generous with ya?”

“There wasn’t anyone before him,” I admitted.

“Sounds like you've been utterly deprived,” he said. “We can work on that. Figure out what you like.”

“I know…” I started, “some things that I like.”

“From your own experimentation?”

“Something like that,” I said.

“Promise to show me?” he said, shoveling out the last hefty scoop of dirt before it was time to push the trunk in.

“Oh, I promise.”

* * *

Cass lit a couple of candles in his attic at either side of the bed and asked me to wait there in his room while he borrowed Jesse's shower and got himself cleaned up. After all that dirty talk, I was raring to go, and I figured I'd cut to the chase, stripping down to nothing and spreading out on the sheets. I knew we'd already made love, but the fact he hadn't yet seen me in the nude made the moment exciting and terrifying, and I realized I couldn't wait to see all of him, either.

When he finally returned, sparkling clean with his towel wrapped out his waist, a devilish smile crossed his face upon seeing me. I smiled back at him as he stepped across the attic, gently placing himself next to me on the bed. Then he turned my head toward his, kissing me tenderly on the mouth. As I reached toward his body, he stopped my hand.

"Can you show me what makes you cum?" He asked, and I eagerly nodded.

I felt like I was putting on a show as I used my right middle finger to massage my clit, rubbing it back and forth rhythmically to get myself started. Usually, it would take a while for the waves of pleasure to start pulsing through my body, but I was so riled up now there was no problem, and as Cassidy kissed and pecked at my neck and clavicle, I inched closer to orgasm with every moment. My eyes were wide open, fixated on his form and the unique ink shapes that lined it. Usually when I touched myself, I was dead quiet, but I wasn't holding back now, letting every gasp and moan escape my mouth.

It wasn’t long before I got there, and I rubbed faster and harder until the pure bliss of it sent a shockwave down my entire body, and I convulsed and called out before finally getting quiet, my breathing still hard from the experience.

Cassidy gently kissed me again.

“Mmm, I love watchin' you,” he said, soft and low. “Could you do it again for me?”

“Mm, yeah,” I said, and as I started again, my pussy positively dripping this time, he whispered in my ear.

“Can I touch your chest?

“Oh god, yes please,” I groaned, and he placed gentle kisses around my nipples before he cupped and grasped my breasts with his large, thin hands, I lost focus in the haze of pleasure. His soft hazel eyes looked deep into mine, and I studied his handsome face. This time, I came almost immediately, gasping and moaning as it took over my body.

“Please fuck me, Cass,” I called to him, feeling frantic for him now to fill me up.

“Oh I will, love,” he said, “but first, I’d love to go down on you. Would you like that?”

“Oh, fuck, please,” I moaned, and he slid down toward the bottom of the bed, teasing me with kisses starting just under my belly button, his stubble lightly scratching against my skin. My whole body seem to transform into a single giant erogenous zone, and every touch made me shudder. He teased a trail down my body with his lips down my pubic area until he was right at my clit, and then he kissed it, and then placed it between his lips and gave it one hard suck. I moaned so hard I thought I would wake the dead. But then he really started going, moving his tongue in tiny, wet circles around me, his hot breath pushing against me, the intensity of the pleasure leaving me dizzy. I could feel my climax building and swelling inside me, but it felt so good right here where we were that I almost didn't want it to arrive.

“Oh, Proinsias, fuck,” I murmured when the pressure was almost too much to bear, and then he slid a long index finger inside of me and wriggled it upward, making my wet pussy twitch. The sensation was far too much, and I came again then, harder than I ever had, bucking against Cassidy's hand and eager tongue. It drew out, and for a moment I thought the orgasm would never stop, and when it finally did, all I could do was pant.

After that, he came back up to my level and gave me another passionate kiss.

“Ya ready for me now?" he whispered, smiling from ear to ear.

“God, yes please.”

He finally ditched the towel, revealing his big, rock hard cock and I could only stare. I simply wanted to marvel at him for a while, and as he entered me again, transporting me to a totally different world of pleasure, I knew I was in for another unforgettable. night.


	6. The Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassidy tells Ada all about Jesse's new power

I’d just rolled out of bed, a bit before noon, when the doorbell rang. I wasn’t expecting anyone, and as I approached the door in my pajamas, I certainly didn’t anticipate that Cassidy would be standing outside in a rice hat and massive sunglasses, with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a poncho.

“Cass!” I almost shouted, immediately opening the door for him and ushering him inside. “Can you _do_ that?!?” He wasn’t on fire or anything, which seemed like a good sign.

“Long as I’m careful,” he said, grinning wildly.

“What are you doing here so early?” I asked. I was glad he was out of the sun, even if the smile on his face told me he wasn’t worried in the slightest about getting singed. Once he was safely inside, and I'd fully closed the blinds, he shed the glasses, hat and sheet.

“Wow, new clothes?” I asked when I saw what he was wearing underneath. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but I was actually flabbergasted when I saw that he had on a new black T-shirt and camouflage jacket. I'd almost come to view him as some kind of cartoon character who only ever wore one thing, and I’d gotten used to the outfit he’d donned every day in the week and a half I’d known him. Mentally, it nearly didn't compute, but the look suited him.

“New clothes, _and_ I’ve some big news, he beamed. “And it’s not as if I swore meself to secrecy, but I think we'd both be doing Jesse a favor here if this were not to get out, get me?”

“I won’t tell a soul” I said, as if I had anyone to tell, and he seemed satisfied with that. Then I noticed something out of the ordinary. “Is… is your nose bleeding?”

“Oh, that’s nothin’” he said, wiping at the dried blood in his nostril with a knuckle. “Well, it’s part o’ things, if you’ll just let me explain ”

“Here, come sit,” I told him, and we both took our places at living room couch.

“So Jesse,” he started, ”he has this power, right? The man can say a thing, and without thinking you’ll just do it, even if you don’t want to.”

It sounded like bullshit, but Cassidy certainly believed it, and I decided to take him at his word.

“So, he told you he has this power?” I asked. “Or did you actually see him use it on someone?”

“Well, yeah,” he responded. “He used it on _me,_ repeatedly. And every second of it was fuckin’ incredible, I’m tellin’ ya.”

“What?” I asked, incredulous.

“So he had me hoppin’ around, then I confessed that I like Justin Bieber, and then I jumped into a wall and busted me nose.”

“Cassidy, that sounds terrible,” I said, trying not to appraise the situation too quickly because he was so clearly excited. And then I paused. “You like Justin Bieber?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point here,” he said. “Look, this shite was unbelievable. You just have to see it for yerself.”

I must have been making an unimpressed look, because Cassidy continued trying to convince me.

“Jesse’s a good guy. A man of the church,” he added. “He’s not the kind of person to use something like that to do harm, y'know.”

“I get that, Cass. I really do. I just want you to be careful,” I said. “Shit like that can go to someone’s head, I don’t care how good they are.”

And I didn’t dare say it aloud, but I wasn’t sure Jesse was such a great person in the first place.

“I will be, alright?” he said, wrapping an arm around me. “First sign o’ trouble, I’ll handle it. But Ada, you really do need to see this with your own two eyes. The thing's got endless potential. The world could be ours.”

As much as the thought of that kind of omnipotence terrified me, Cassidy had hyped it up so much that I truly was curious to see it in action—if it was even real in the first place. And as long as Cass understood that there might be consequences, I felt better about him being around that power. After all, he was basically indestructible. 

"But before we go barging in there, demanding to see what he's capable of, maybe ask him first?" I suggested. "He might not feel super comfortable sharing what he has with anyone but his best friend. And I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“That’s nonsense,” he said. “He just needs to get to know ya better, is all.”

He smiled, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. I had more questions.

“So do we know where this power came from?” I asked.

“No, not as such,” he said. “Presently, me favorite hypothesis is that it’s a Jedi mind power he’s suddenly got. Haven’t tested whether he can lift shite yet, but it's on the agenda.”

“Or, you know, electrify and choke people,” I suggested.

“It always gets kinky with you,” he joked. For once, that wasn’t what was on my mind, but now it absolutely was, driving it straight into the gutter. And then that got me thinking.

“Cass?” I started.

“Hmm?” he replied.

“If you had a power like that, what would you make me do?”

“Well, first I’d have to know if you wanted me to use it on ya,” he said. “Would you?”

“_Maybe_,” I played coy. “Tell me what you’d do.”

“Hmm,” he considered for a moment, and then a moment of realization crossed his face. “I’d make ya tell me all the dirty little things you want me to do to you,” he finally said, his voice lowering into a deep growl.

I gave him a look.

“Not that you’re a prude or nothin’, but I think you’re still a little shy about tellin’ me what you want.” He smiled a very sexy smile and I had to try hard not to get completely sidetracked by lust. “Just a push in the right direction… I’d love to know what’s on your mind, is all.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, and then suddenly something dawned on me. “How did you get here, anyway?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine that Cassidy could get Jesse to part with his truck on a Friday morning.

“Church van,” he reached into a pocket and then jangled the keys in front of me. “All mine now that I’m official handyman and such.”

“Is it a… roomy van? Out back?” I asked, trying not to be _too_ overt about the idea of a late night rendezvous, but also more than happy to imply it. Cass's implications had put me into a certain headspace, and I was struggling to get out of it.

“Plenty of space, but you wouldn’t necessarily want to be back there right now,” he answered.

“And why’s that?” I asked, trying to prevent myself from shifting into bedroom voice.

“Well, the body would be a distraction,” he said, bluntly, bringing me back to reality and ending my arousal dead in its tracks.

“Again?” I asked, trying not to sound disappointed.

“Oh no, this wasn’t someone I killed,” he explained. “Not a loose body, one in a box—I mean I’m makin' a delivery for cremation. For Jesse.”

I went from slightly concerned to a little proud real fast.

“Look at you, having a real job.” I kissed him on the cheek.

“Next stop is Ernesto y Ernesto's Crematorium. You could come with?” he suggested, and as tempting as that sounded, I had a very full day ahead of me.

“I’d love to, but I can’t,” I explained. “I have some dead boring errands of my own to run. Oh, and out of the blue, an old friend from high school got in touch with me. We actually might hang out tomorrow.”

That got him to raise an eyebrow.

“No one I should be watching out for, I hope?” he said, slightly suspiciously.

“No, nothing like that,” I said. “She was my best friend in elementary school and most of middle school, but we kinda drifted apart when we got older and she started hanging out with a different crowd. She wanted to reconnect, we might grab lunch or something.”

“I think that sounds like a lovely idea,” he said. “Anyhow, I should get going now. How’re we going to focus and enjoy our depraved van sex if it smells like a dead man in there, right?”

I shoved him playfully and he grinned like a fool. Then he craned his neck toward me and gave me a rough, passionate kiss.

“I’ll be seeing you soon,” he said once he was done, and then the edges of his mouth turned up into a kind smile.

“Very soon,” I promised.

Before he left, I helped him perfectly position his conical hat and poncho to keep him safe from the sun, and as he stepped out the door, he rushed back into the safety of a van with “Praise the Lord” written on the side.

“Praise the lord,” I whispered to myself, and then got to the rest of my day.


	7. Tulip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ada loses one friend, but makes another

* * *

* * *

Life can really knock you on your ass, sometimes. Just yesterday, I was making plans to hang out with my old friend, Lacey, and today she was dead in the ground. Well—dead and hanging upside-down by her ankles in a clearing, coated in cow shit.

Apparently, she’d been so excited about out little get-together that she’d told all of her friends she’d be hanging out with her BFF. Practically everyone at the Toadvine Whorehouse knew about it, and not long after she died, they made sure I was among the very first to know. The sudden news, and their sweetness, made me unexpectedly emotional, and it forced me to throw every stupid little prejudice I had against the prostitutes of Annville out the window.

And the gathering they’d invited me to that morning sure was something. I’d worn a black, conservative dress, thinking this would be a memorial service, but nothing could be further from one. The sky was a murky brown as we crowded under a field of naked trees lined with dead grass, making the moment feel even more bleakly solemn. Busty ladies in their bras and underwear wept and looked on with horrified faces while men in Quincannon Meat & Power uniforms just stood around, looking bored as that horrible little Odin Quincannon made a sorry-ass speech through a feedback-y microphone. He told the men to stop being so rough, and the ladies to be careful, and then he pathetically waddled away. As if I needed another reason to absolutely hate Quincannon, and his lackeys, and everything they stood for.

I was pissed, and what pissed me off even more was that everyone else seemed so damn apathetic about the situation. Yes, the ladies missed their friend horribly, but they didn’t see that it was Quincannon’s faul, or even understand that girls didn’t simply fall into sinkholes in regular towns. No one said a word—that is, until this gorgeous woman with short, dark curly hair stepped up and spoke out. She was about my height, and she had the look of a fighter about her.

“What the hell was that?” she shouted. “Am I the only one who sees a dead girl hanging there by her ankles?”

Just a couple of words out of her mouth and I could tell she could kick the asses and take the names of men much, much larger than her, and she wasn’t going to apologize for it.

I had to chime in.

“This shit shouldn’t happen,” I said, glaring at the men. “You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

A few of the guys looked at me threateningly, but with the sheriff here overseeing things, they wouldn’t dare do anything, and I held my ground. The woman stared down one bearded man in particular as the crowd dispersed. Once it did, she made a beeline straight toward me, and extended her hand as she approached.

“The name’s Tulip O’Hare,” she said. “I liked the way you handled yourself back there.”

I shook her hand and introduced myself.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” she continued. She eyed me up and down, noting the black dress. “You’re definitely not one of the Toadvine gals. What’s your deal?”

“Lacey was my best friend,” I told Tulip, and then she gave me a disbelieving look. “I mean back in my grade school days. I just moved back, and we were supposed to hang out, and then this shit happened and everything went to hell.”

At this point, I was more angry than sad, and it felt good to vent to someone else who was clearly worked up about the situation.

“Well, I didn't know her that well,” Tulip said, “but I think Lacey would’ve really appreciated that you’re here. And I’m glad I’m not the only person here who thinks Quincannon is one awful sonuvabitch.”

I nodded, and we stood there for a while in a comfortable silence, though it grew slightly more awkward when a uniformed officer began to hose Lacey’s body down.

“By the way,” Tulip added, after a while, “the girls are having a little remembrance for Lacey later at the whorehouse. I don’t know if you’d be interested, but I think Lacey really would have liked for you to be there, maybe say a little something? You seem like a smart gal, and it’d be nice for someone with a little eloquence to help us say bye.”

“You know, I’d be honored,” I said. She nodded and gave me her phone number and a warm smile before we parted ways.

* * *

When I arrived at the Toadvine, the red neon lighting, stuffy sex smells and glances from leering men made me feel completely out of place. The ladies, on the other hand, did everything they could to make me feel right at home. As they showed me around, pointing me to the food and drinks, each and every one of them hugged me in consolation.

"Any friend of Lacey's is a friend of ours," one gal, named Pearl, said as they walked me through the halls, and when the others cheered in agreement, I felt a weird sense of family and even got a little choked up.

I realized, now that they weren’t nearly naked and muddy, that I recognized some of these girls from school. I thought back to my high school years and realized I hadn’t always been the kindest to them as prostitutes in-the-making. Seeing them now, and how they accepted me without question, showed me that their hearts were in exactly the right place. But out of them all, Tulip seemed the most excited to see me.

When the girls began taking turns talking about Lacey, standing in front of a table adorned with scrunchies and Sour Patch Kids and a stuffed lemur, I could tell that Tulip was getting slightly irritated with them. Between unintelligible bible verses and superficial lists of Lacey’s favorite things, it was clear the women cared about Lacey but weren’t so good at expressing it.

When it was my turn to speak, I choked back my nerves and read from something I’d prepared. It wasn’t much, but I had a feeling it would mean something to them.

“I’d known Lacey since preschool, and even though we didn’t keep in touch the last few years, I know she never stopped being her most genuine, honest self. She was never, ever ashamed about the things that stirred her heart. She pursued everything with pure joy, and she truly cared about people. When we were in the second grade, we found a squirrel that had been hit by a car. The feisty little guy definitely didn’t want our help, but Lacey insisted. She did everything she could to nurture the critter back to health, and even though it didn’t make it in the end, she never gave up on it along the way. That was just the kind of person Lacey was.”

Something the last sentence made a couple girls break into sobs. That made the tears well up in my eyes, too, but I kept going.

“I know I haven’t been around for a while, but the care that all of you show for her tells me that she never stopped being that amazing person. She was a bright light in the darkness, and the best we can do now is keep shining for her. That starts with sticking up for yourselves. It means being strong, being cautious and putting your foot down when you get dragged along to do stupid shit.”

“We paid these girls good money to take part in your so-called, ‘stupid shit,’” someone interrupted. It was bearded man Tulip was staring daggers at earlier.

“You can shut it, Clive,” Tulip shouted.

“Quiet, O’Hare,” he said. “We were just havin' fun. Accidents like this happen. It ain’t the first time, and it ain’t gonna be the last. Lacey’s gone.”

“It could be the last,” Tulip growled, looking around as she approached Clive, “if you girls smartened up, had a little respect for yourselves and stopped acting like game to be shot at.”

“Break it up, you two,” stepped in an older woman, who seemed to own the place. “Lacey wouldn’t have wanted this. Not tonight.”

In celebration of Lacey’s life, she told the men that the next hour was on her. The place cleared up real quick after that, with girls leading men by the hand upstairs.

I stood back and did my best not to eavesdrop as the madam gave Tulip a talking to, and when they were done, Tulip stepped back over to me.

“Good old Toadvine, huh?”

Then loud rock music started playing upstairs, and one of the gals was moaning. That really seemed to set Tulip off.

“Fuck it,” Tulip said, and stormed up the stairs. She shouted, “Eat shit, Clive,” and then I heard loud thumping sounds, and a man’s scream, and the sound of glass shattering before a loud bang.

She came back down the stairs a moment later, beaming.

“What the hell happened up there?” I asked her.

“I think I just killed Clive?” she said. “Feels... good.”

I don’t know why, but it felt good to me, too. The adrenaline coursing through her veins was clearly infectious.

“Lacey deserved better,” she kept going, acting slightly high on the thrill of it all. “He was the one who chased her into that hole. Asshole finally got his just deserts.”

“But what are you going to do now?” I asked. “Won’t the police be coming after you?”

“Y’know, I guess they will,” she said, dazed. “Didn’t think of that, guess I’ll have to lay low for a while and let this whole thing blow over.”

I don’t know why I felt compelled, but I had to offer.

“If you need somewhere to stay, somewhere the cops won’t look for you, you could stay with me if you’d like?”

“Nah, I couldn’t do that,” she said, but I could tell it was a put on and that she needed it. “I don’t wanna be too much trouble.”

“It’s not, I promise,” I said.

“Cool,” she said quickly, shrugging up her shoulders. “Would you mind if you gave me your address? I have a couple of things I’d like to pick up before I head over.”

Now I wasn’t sure if I’d been played, but it was too late to back out.

“Sure thing,” I said. “Just don’t go leading the cops to my place.”

“Oh, I’d never do that,” she said with a wink, and then she was out of there.

As I made my own exit, the madam approached me.

“You ever need some work, we have a vacancy here,” she told me. “You’re a good-looking girl, and it’s good money.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said, with no intentions of doing so, and then headed home.


	8. Clones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassidy shows up unexpectedly, dressed to the nines and bearing some new information.

Despite her detour after we both left the Toadvine, Tulip somehow arrived at my apartment just moments after me. When she did, she wheeled a trunk nearly as big as she was up and into my apartment.

“Hope this won’t take up too much space,” she said glancing over at me to gauge my receptiveness and smiling all the while as she settled in, shoving it into an unused corner of the room.

“Not a problem,” I said, eyeing the thing with slight suspicion as I took a seat on the couch. “Make yourself at home.”

She made quick work of it, opening up the case to reveal heaps and heaps of tiny, fashionable clothes. On one shelf there was also a wooden mannequin head wearing a blonde bobbed wig with bangs. Tulip removed it from its stand, placed it on her head and did a 180-degree turn to flaunt it, and then stared at me expectantly. 

“What’s that for?” I asked when I understood she was dying for a response.

“Meet Marnie Pomerantz,” Tulip said, pointing at her face with both hands.

“Alter ego?”

“Pretty much,” she answered. “It’ll let me come and go as I please. The police around here aren’t too bright, so I won't run into too much trouble. They’ll forget about the whole thing in the morning. I just have to disappear a little while, and then when everything goes back to normal I can ditch the wig.”

I wasn’t so sure that was how things were going to work out, but I was suddenly distracted by a text from Cassidy. It was just a diamond emoji, a chocolate bar emoji and a bouquet emoji, followed by a question mark. I wasn’t sure I understood it, but I figured the risks were low, and I texted him back three chocolate emojis.

“Who’s that?” Tulip walked over and sat down next to me, trying to catch a peek at my screen.

“I guess I’d say he’s my boyfriend,” I answered, and just hearing it out loud for the first time made me smile. “We haven't exactly defined the relationship, but I think it’s pretty safe to say we're going steady.”

“Boyfriend, huh?” Tulip asked with a sigh. “I’ve been having some trouble with mine.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nah,” she said, but the far-off look she suddenly got in her eyes told me she was about to anyway. “It’s just that we both should’ve gotten out of Annville a long time ago. We've known each other since we were little kids. I know who he is deep down, better than anybody, but he’s trying to be something else. Something better. And it’s kind of bullshit. I love him the way he was, you know? Now he thinks he’s too damn good.”

I couldn’t relate, but she was clearly hurt. In that moment, all the confidence had left her posture. She was _so _sure of herself—and then she wasn't.

“Well, if he thinks he’s too good for you, the man is a grade-A fool,” I said.

“I know, right?” she laughed, and then perked back up again. It was good to know that this loser hadn’t diminished her worth too much. She looked like she was about to say something else, but then we both heard the loud screech of tires outside.

Immediately, my phone rang. I should’ve guessed it would be Cassidy. I’d already plans to see him the next day at the church, so it must have been something important. Well—important according to Cassidy.

“Is that you I hear outside?” I said with a laugh, standing up and stepping toward the door as I answered the phone.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Adelaide, are ya free? I have a coupla updates for you that couldn’t wait. And also, you know, I’d like to see ya.”

“Is that the boyfriend?” Tulip asked, and I nodded.

“Hi, Ada’s boyfriend!” she yelled from where she was sitting.

“Hello!” Cass replied sweetly, even though I don’t think Tulip could hear. “Wait, is there someone there? Your friend from school?”

“There is, but it’s a different friend,” I explained. “She’s staying with me a while. Actually we have a lot of catching up to do.”

“Well I had a bit of a date night planned, and I have a little somethin' out here for you, if she doesn’t mind?” Cassidy asked. I felt like a shitty pal for abandoning my new friend, but I couldn’t bear the thought of sending him away either.

“You wouldn’t hate me if I headed out, would you?” I asked through gritted teeth. “It’s just, he’s out there, and I guess he came with a surprise.”

“You have done enough for me for one day,” she said, leaning back like she was right at home. “Go have fun with your boyfriend.”

If there was an iota of resentment in her voice, my brain decided to filter it out, and I told Cassidy I’d meet him downstairs. It wasn’t long before I said bye to Tulip, grabbed a light jacket and was out the door. Standing next to the van, dimly illuminated by a street light, Cassidy was standing in what looked like a smart blue suit, armed with an enormous brown teddy bear holding a giant box of assorted chocolates.

“Cassidy, what in the hell is going on here?” I asked.

“I’m taking you out,” he said.” Somewhere nice this time. And Jaysis, do I have a story to tell you.”

“Did you borrow Jesse’s wallet again?” I asked with a laugh. The whole thing seemed fishy.

“Not this time,” he said. “I’ve got me hands on quite a bit of money and, well, it’s a long story. I’ll explain over dinner.” He handed the gargantuan teddy to me.

“This is all very cute,” I said, “and I really do appreciate it, but where the hell am I supposed to put it?”

“Good point,” he said, quickly collecting it back from me. He opened the back of the van and tossed it in. Only once his hands were empty could I see his full three-piece suit. As I got closer to get a better look, I also noticed he was sporting a very fresh shave, and he even had his hair slicked back with a little something. He looked positively stunning, and the sight of him all fancied up like that left me momentarily speechless. The way he smiled back at me was the cherry on top.

“Do… do I need to go upstairs to change?” I said when I finally regained my ability to formulate words. “I feel severely underdressed right now. And is that suit tailored?”

“No, no” he drew out the words. “Just a rental, but it fits like a glove, don’t it? But don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. Just get in.”

As I hopped into the passenger seat, Cassidy actually climbed into the back of the van, sliding past the giant bear, and once he’d slammed the back door shut, he started disrobing, placing each element of his rented suit into a neat pile. Then it took him a moment, but he eventually located the rest of his clothes and got dressed. It was another new outfit consisting of cuffed jeans, a long-sleeved white shirt and a black leather jacket. Despite the downgrade, he still looked fantastic. 

“Now we’re a little more even, eh?” he said, clambering over into the driver’s seat.

“Thank for doing that, Cass,” I said. “I’m sorry you wasted money on a suit you’re not even gonna wear.”

“You never know,” he said with a wink. “Who says we can’t get a little use out of it later?”

I liked the sound of that.

As he drove, Cassidy's nervous energy made it clear to me that he had some news he was eager to divulge, but for whatever reason, he insisted on not saying a word until we were digging into giant, bleeding steaks. I didn't really feel like waiting, but the process was made a bit less painful when he asked me about the day I’d had. Between the death of my old best friend by the hands of my least favorite man in Annville to meeting Tulip and eventually harboring a fugitive, it had been a pretty wild day by any standards.

“Bloody hell," he said, looking toward me. "I hope I didn’t drag all this shite to Annville with me. You’re too pure a soul to have me rubbing off on you like that.”

“You can rub off on me anytime you like,” I said, and when he laughed with a low snort I didn’t regret saying the first dumb thing that had popped into my head.

When we finally did get to the steakhouse, which had some unpronounceable French name, it quickly became clear that it was one of those really nice places, with prices catering to the wealthy and indulgent. I told Cassidy that this wasn’t necessary at all, but he insisted. Honestly, with the way we were dressed, I was surprised they even let us in.

He ordered a prime porterhouse—rare—and a fancy beer, and after a bunch of indecision and going back and forth, I eventually settled on the filet mignon and some kind of minty peach lemonade. He was getting more and more antsy as the time passed, and when our food finally arrived and we started cutting in, he finally found it time to spill the beans.

“So you remember those guys we buried?” he asked, earnestly.

I laughed at the question. “How could I forget?”

“Right, well, they came back, all right?” he said. “Same two fellers with their same two stupid cowboy outfits. Seeing as we’d just stuck ‘em in the ground, I don't see any logical explanation other than that they're clones or some such.”

I wasn’t sure I was following, but it didn’t sound good.

“So these clones, whatever, came back to kill you?” I asked.

“So here’s the thing,” he kept going. “Turns out, they’re not after me at all. And they were never vampire hunters ta begin with. They're _angels_. From heaven above. And they’ve actually been after Jess. Y’know that power he’s got? Well, it don’t belong to him and they’re trying to get it back.”

Cassidy didn't seem concerned about the situation in the slightest, so I had to ask a question. 

“And now they want to kill Jesse?"

“No, they don’t want that, if they can help it,” he explained. “Thing is, at first I thought this was bad news, that we might have to go on the run if this was going to be a problem, right, but turns out they’re two eedjits and I—honestly I don’t think it’s going to be a problem. They’re having me act as the middleman, see, so all I got to do is send Jesse a coupla gentle reminders to give the thing back every few days, and the boys will keep me flush with cash.”

“Hence the teddy, and the suit and the ridiculously priced dinner,” I said.

“Well, I don’t know what kind of devious shite I would have got up to with it a month ago, but I realized I couldn’t do those kinds of things when I’ve got a girl like you.” He smiled sweetly and extended one hand halfway across the table, and grabbed it with mine.

“You know you don’t have to keep making these grand gestures, right Cass?” I asked him.

“I know,” he said. “You’re a simple gal. Simple tastes. But when shite like this presents itself, why not go for it, y’know?”

Truly, I was glad he had. I felt like I was glowing from the inside out. 

“I do,” I said.

When we’d finished our meals, we ordered a richly lavish cheesecake. Afterward, the bill came, and though the waiter gave us both a strange look when Cassidy paid the massive tab in cash, he was plenty pleased when he saw the generous tip that Cass had left for him.

As we finally stepped outside, stomachs quite full, he wrapped an arm around me.

“Any chance you’d like to head back to my place?” he teased. “I’ve got a rental suit I’d like to make use of.”

It was the weekend, so why the hell not? I called Tulip to let her know not to wait up for me at home, and then gleefully got back into the van.

* * *

The moment the attic door was closed behind us, our hands were all over each other. He bent down to kiss me longingly, and I happily kissed him back. It had only been a couple of days since we'd seen each other, but that felt like it'd been far too long.

We kissed, and touched, and gasped there for a little while before he finally pulled back and softly said to me, “What would you like me to do?”

I didn’t have to think about it for a second.

“First, I’d like you to slip back into that stunning suit of yours,” I said with a smile.

“Oh, I love it when you take charge, Adelaide,” he said, doing as he was told. His erection was already visible through his boxers as he took off what he was wearing and changed back into the suit—waistcoat, tie and all. The process took a moment, but my eyes soaked up every luscious second.

“How about we play a game?” he hummed softly when he was fully dressed, draping his arms around the back of my neck, pressing his body against mine.

“Hmmm,” I pushed back, feeling his stiff cock through the soft fabric of the suit. “What kind of game?”

“Let’s pretend,” he said, “that you can make me do things, just by sayin’ it.”

I stared at him.

“I dunno, Cass,” I replied, unsure. “What if there’s something you really don’t want to do?”

“I trust you,” he said, pulling me ever closer to him. “And If I do get uncomfortable, we can have a safe word. Fuckin, ‘Justin Bieber,’ alright?”

He laughed, and then I did, too.

“Sounds good to me,” I said, looking around the room, creating my plan of attack. “Sit at the edge of the bed.”

He obeyed, and I followed behind him.

“Don’t move a muscle,” I said, undressing teasingly in front of him, shedding one piece of clothing at a time, slowly, until I was fully naked in front of him. I could tell he wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch me, but he continued to play along.

“Now hand me a pillow,” he turned around to grab one from the head of the bed, and then gave it to me. I set it on the ground in front of the low bed frame, and then got on my knees on top of it.

I cupped my hand gently over the bulge in his pants, brushing against him with a soft motion. He groaned slightly as I did, and I felt him grow bigger and harder with every touch.

“Tell me what you want me to do,” I ordered.

“I… I want you to suck me off,” he yelped between touches.

“We’ll get there,” I told him, finally undoing the buttons of his trousers and unzipping the fly, revealing his boxer briefs. “Slide all this down to your thighs.”

He looked relieved as his big cock was finally freed. I felt like it was staring up at me, begging to be taken. But before I could give Cass what he wanted, I wanted to play with him a bit.

I took it into my right hand, wrapping my fingers around one end of his hard shaft, and started massaging it in long, smooth strokes, from base to tip, and he let out abrupt gasps of breath with every movement.

“Make some noise,” I said, and he obliged, moaning sensually to the beat of my jerking fist.

“Oh, fuck, Adelaide, that feels amazin’" he said, and I felt that was my cue to take all of him as deep into my mouth as I could manage. His entire body shuddered. I closed my lips hard round the edges of his cock, pushing and pulling back and forth on it as I looked up at him, still dressed to the nines and lost in the pleasure of it all, never ceasing to voice his guttural enjoyment.

“Just like that please, just keep goin’,” he said making eye contact with me from my place on the ground, and I did, grasping the base I couldn’t reach with my mouth with my hand, tasting him as I fucked him with my mouth. I loved seeing his face contort into odd shapes as he completely stopped caring what he looked like and gave into the pure sensation of it all.

I started going harder and faster, and then, just to see what would happen, I mumbled, mouth full, “Cum.” He did, filling my mouth with hot, slightly metallic-tasting liquid, and I drank it down. When I’d removed his whole cock from my mouth, I still had my hand wrapped around it, and I gave it another couple of soft tugs, milking the last drops from him before I licked the rest of the cum off the head of his penis for good measure, causing him to breathe deep and let out a little half-laugh, half-moan.

When I was finished, I got up and sat on the edge of the bed next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. He looked dreamy, like he wasn’t sure where he was, but then he turned his head to kiss me softly again, unafraid of where my mouth had just been. He pressed his forehead against mine. 

“I’m gonna need a coupla minutes, love,” he said in a low murmur, “but when I’m ready, it’ll be your turn to have a little fun.”

“How about we play a game?” I mimicked, and the devious smile Cass gave me told me exactly what kind of night it was going to be.


	9. "Serve God"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a busy day and church, and Ada doesn't care for some of the folks in attendance

I wound up staying the night again, and when I woke up on Sunday morning, I realized I was going to find it a lot harder for the both of us to slink away unnoticed by this week's batch of churchgoers. While the place had been almost barren a couple of Sundays prior, today, the place was packed wall-to-wall. 

"Shite, I shoulda warned ya," Cassidy said as we stepped down the stairs into the church. "I think they're auctioning a TV."

That would explain it. Not many folks in Annville could afford the massive 55-inch flatscreen they had out front, and I understood why that might draw a big crowd like this one. Even I was tempted to buy a ticket to enter, but I didn't exactly feel like mingling right now. This many bodies in such a cramped space was making me feel a little claustrophobic, so we decided to head to the less-jammed second floor balcony to check out the chaos.

I wasn't absorbing a word of Jesse's sermon as Cassidy whispered naughty nonsense into my ear, and with the newly fixed air conditioning unit leaving the air cool and crisp, I remained in a pretty good mood until growing murmurs that Odin Quincannon was in today's audience finally reached me. That was certainly strange, because he was renowned in town for his staunch atheism. Seeing him twice in as many days was too much for me. His presence always sent an awful lurch down my stomach, and his being here couldn't be good news. 

Just watching the way the townspeople sucked up to Quincannon, including that weaselly wimp of a mayor and even Jesse himself, almost made me want to give up on Annville altogether. 

"Cass," I whispered when I couldn't take it anymore. "Would it be okay if we went back upstairs? I don't feel so good."

Wordlessly, he took my hand and walked me back through the door, and then we both headed up to the attic. He led me to foot of his bed and we both sat down there.

"You look a bit white," he said, touching his palm to my forehead. "Is everything alright?"

"It's just Quincannon," I said. "I fucking hate that guy."

"He's the one responsible for... your friend?" he said, trying to be as sensitive as he could. 

"Yeah, but it’s not just that," I said, getting madder by the second. "It's like he has these grimy little tendrils all over the town. Just because he owns the industry behind it, he can get away with fucking anything."

I was fuming now, to the point that it concerned Cass.

"What are you getting at, love?" he asked. He was staring hard at me now, like he was trying to unearth something from me. It wasn't easy to talk about, but it was time. 

"Back in the day, my Pa was Odin Quincannon’s right hand man," I explained, as calmly as I could. "When I was little, I barely got to see him because he was always off doing this or that for that man. Pa didn’t necessarily believe in his work, but he was good at it, you know. Momma was one of Quincannon's secretaries, and they made an okay living that way."

Cassidy never stopped looking at me, nodding as I told my story, his eyebrows folded into soft, worried peaks.

"But then one day, we get the news. Pa was dead. Meat and power-related accident, they said. Momma claims she never found out exactly what happened, but I wonder if she just kept it from me because it was too much. But I put two and two together, and it was the most fucked up thing, because just afterward, the company issued a recall on all its ground meat products. And they'd _never _do that unless they had a real good reason. Quincannon just doesn’t give a shit, and he leaves a trail of nothing but death and pain in his wake." I didn’t realize that tears were welling up in my eyes until they started falling down my face.

Cassidy wrapped his arms around me and pressed me to his chest, giving me a tight squeeze. The embrace was warm and welcome, and even though it didn't make what I was feeling go away, it helped. It helped _so _much. 

“You’ve every right to be upset,” he assured me, his voice soft and sad. “The man's a right bastard. I'll kick his arse for you, if you like?”

He smiled gently, and that made me crack a smile, too.

“I might take you up on that, Cass,” I said, sighing deeply as his embrace ended. “I just wish he’d get a taste of his own medicine one of these days.”

“Well I only got the chance to catch a glimpse of the feller,” Cassidy said, “But he does give off an aura of being a sad, strange little man.”

“What’s worse is the influence he has over people,” I said. “Everyone’s so concerned with what he wants, he never gets held accountable for anything. The mayor’s in his pocket, and everyone else just does along with it.”

“That mayor sure is irritating though, isn’t he?” Cassidy added. “Like he showed up late the day they were handin' out personalities and got the shite left at the bottom of the box. And that laugh." Cass snorted his own wonderful, bright laugh. "Horrible, really.”

I didn’t know the guy that well, but everything he said seemed spot on.

“And then there’s my family," I continued. "I guess Quincannon technically did the right thing by paying Momma a little bit every month, but it's a fraction of what Pa was making. After that, Momma quit her job and figured she could just live off that money. She treats it like this godsend and worships the earth Quincannon he walks on. After his negligence kills her own husband. I don’t understand it at all.”

“Yer ma sounds like an interesting woman,” Cass mused.

“Trust me, I’m doing you a favor by not introducing the two of you,” I said. “If I had any other family, I know they’d adore you. But Momma's just plain unpleasant."

“She ever meet your ex?”

“Nope,” I said. “She refused to come out to see me, and he definitely wouldn’t have flown to Texas to meet her.”

“Y’see, I'm a bit conflicted about the situation,” Cassidy explained. “On the one hand, I think stickin' by yer family is just something ya do. On the other, I s'pose if yer family is a bunch of wankers, why waste your precious time with people you don’t like who make ya miserable?”

“Exactly,” I said. “I mostly just wind up spending time with her when I’m feeling guilty about it, anyway. It's never because I want to. It’s horrible, but sometimes I fantasize that she’ll just up and go somewhere and I won't have to deal with her anymore.”

“You’re not so bad for thinking that,” he said. "And she's not all bad, either."

"How do you figure that?" I asked.

"If you hadn't come to church with her, we never would have met," he said with a soft, loving smile, and then gave me a light kiss on the temple. “Anyhow, how are ya feelin’?”

“A little better in the head, now that I’ve talked things through,” I admitted, “but still slightly sick to my stomach.”

“Would ya like me to get you a ginger ale?” he asked. “I think Jesse has a couple in the fridge downstairs.”

“Don’t worry about that, Cass,” I said. “Would it be okay if I rested here for a little bit, though?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” he said as he helped me get situated in the bed. “Would you like to be alone, or…?”

“Never,” I said. “Here. You be the big spoon?”

He crawled into bed on my right side and held me close, carefully draping one arm around me.

“I’m not pressing on your tummy, am I?” he asked.

“Not at all, Cass. Thank you.”

I felt so cozy and comfortable there, and I managed to drift to sleep before too long. I don't know exactly how long I was asleep, but when I woke up, I felt a lot better. I actually managed to get some rest—maybe 20 minutes’ worth—and when I woke up, Cass still holding me to him gently, I felt brand new. 

"Would you want to play some cards?" he asked when it was clear that I was feeling better. It seemed to come out of left field, but I was down for it.

"Sure," I said as he got up and then started scrounging through piles in search of a deck of cards. "But it's got to be something simple. I'm not always so good at keeping the rules straight."

"There we are," he finally said after finding some cards under a pair of jeans. He brought them back to the bed. "How about Gin Rummy?"

I was about to tell him that I had no idea how to play, but when he elegantly slid the red Bicycle cards out of the box and started shuffling them together in these wonderfully consistent, fluid motions that stopped me dead in my tracks.

He chuckled at my reaction.

"You like that, eh?" he said, and used his long, nimble hands to do a couple more flashy tricks, criss-crossing the cards and weaving them in with one another repeatedly before he plopped the deck down on the bed to his left, and then perfectly fanned the cards out in an arch between us. I was mesmerized.

"You spend all the time I have in casinos, you wind up learning a thing or two." He smiled brightly at me.

"You don't know any magic tricks, do you?" I asked, hopefully.

"No way," he made a face. "Magicians are horrible folk. Don't like 'em one bit."

"Aww, okay," I said, trying to play up my disappointment. It worked.

"Alright, alright," he gave in. "Here goes."

He majestically shuffled the deck yet again, and then fanned the cards out lightly in front of me and asked me to pick one. I did—the four of hearts—and then stuck it back clumsily into the deck. He shuffled it back up neatly, and then placed the whole deck to one side on the bed. Then he reached one hand gently behind my ear, and I heard the flicking sound of a card being procured.

"Is this your card?" he asked gently, but before I could check, he'd pulled me toward him until our lips touched and we both lost ourselves in a long, tender kiss. One kiss became many, and as we moved on the bed, the mess of cards flew, neither of us caring where they went next. 

* * *

When we were finished, we decided to head back to the balcony, catching the very end of Jesse’s sermon. Below, he berated Odin Quincannon again and again, asking him to serve God, and just when Quincannon was getting frustrated by Jesse's insistence and about to walk out, his entire demeanor changed, and he eagerly agreed, and nodded, and promised to serve God.

I couldn't believe what I'd just seen.

“Did he just use the power?” I asked Cassidy with a whisper as we both watched on, captivated.

“I—I think so,” he murmured back into my ear.

“Shit,” I said with a mix of horror and amazement. So this was the real deal.


	10. Something Real Dumb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things escalate quickly when Tulip gets upset with her boyfriend

The last couple of days had been long, uneventful and tedious, and even though I'd enjoyed coming home to Tulip's incredible stories of bank jobs and car thefts, I found myself counting the passage of time by how long it'd been since I'd seen Cassidy. 

When I did get home that night, I was surprised to see Tulip curled up on the couch with her arms around her knees, zoned out in front of the TV. On the coffee table in front of her was an empty cereal bowl and spoon, a half-filled beer bottle, an empty beer bottle, and a couple of toppled, empty boxes of cereal. It wasn't like her to be home this early, and it definitely wasn't like her to stay down in the dumps for more than a couple minutes at a time. 

“You doing okay?” I asked her, sitting down next to her. She turned her head to face me, and the demoralized look in her eyes said it all. “The boyfriend,” I said, nodding knowingly. 

“Yeah, but what else is new?” she grumbled. "You know, I felt like doing something real dumb tonight? Something that would hurt him. Maybe hurt me, too. I dunno." She stretched her legs. "But I couldn’t think of anything, so I ate two boxes of Boo Berry and watched four hours of _Scooby-Doo_, instead. How’s your night goin’?”

“Nothing to note,” I said with a sigh. “Did you want to talk about what's going on, or…”

“It’s just…” she started, “how would you feel if you had this rebellious, handsome cowboy on your hands, who’d break any rule, or any arm, and do absolutely anything for you, and then one day he’s gone all righteous and holier than thou on ya, and suddenly he refuses to do right by ya and serve justice cuz he thinks it’s _wrong_?”

I thought about it.

“I think I’d feel pretty lost,” I answered. If Cassidy suddenly went totally straight, I know I’d think he’d been replaced. He just wouldn't be the same.

“And now there’s this other girl,” Tulip went on. “Totally on the straight and narrow, sweet and perfect and God-lovin’. I feel like she’s pulling him away from me. Makes me sick.”

“Have you maybe talked to her at all?” I suggested. “Maybe her intentions aren’t what you think.”

She thought it over for a second, but then answered bluntly, "Do you know how dumb that sounds?" 

"All right, point taken," I said with a laugh. "In the meantime, maybe we can watch some stupid movie, or play a board game. Something to get your mind off of him, just for the night."

"A distraction?" Tulip asked. "Yeah, I could use one of those"

"Any ideas?"

"Well, I do have one," she said, and then, before I understood what was happening, she was practically on top of me, her lips on mine. She was soft, and eager, and listless. My mind struggled to comprehend it, but my body was more than happy to give in, and I found myself ravenously kissing her back. 

When our lips separated, I looked into her eyes, and they were like big, dark puddles reflecting my image back at me.

"Tulip, I..." I hesitated. "You know I have a boyfriend."

"So do I," she said in a whisper. "And yet, here we are."

I have her a look.

"Look, I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to do," she said, "but what I am saying is that we're two hot ladies, just hanging out, and we should have the right to have a little fun with each other if that's what we decide to do."

I was silent for a moment, overthinking absolutely every aspect of the situation, and I’m sure she could see the gears turning in my head.

"If you’re going to feel guilty about it," Tulip said, almost getting annoyed. "You can just tell your boy about it, in lurid detail, as soon as this whole thing's done. Say you were experimenting. It’ll probably get them all hot and bothered. Spice things up, if nothing else."

The thought of Cassidy getting turned on suddenly made me want her that much more, and that was when I plunged in and kissed her again. The next moments were a blur, and it wasn’t too long before I was laid out across the couch, stripped down to just my bra and jeans, and she was on top of me, kissing me on the neck and grinding hypnotically against me. I was so delirious as she was starting to undo the button and zipper of my jeans that I didn’t even hear the door open.

"Well, what do we have here?" Cassidy said, his voice high, a wide grin plastered across his face. I suddenly jolted upright. I was at a complete loss for words, but was completely relieved that he didn't look upset. In fact, it appeared he was _very_ into it.

"You're Ada's boyfriend, huh?" she asked him, and I laid there in awe of the casual tone of her voice in this situation of all situations. 

"I am," he said. "And I s'pose you're the new roommate, Tulip."

"Mhmm," she answered. "Did you maybe wanna join in?"

He scrunched up his face for a second before his smile returned. Clearly, he was completely taken aback. 

"Ah, yes I would," he replied, "That is, if Ada doesn't object?"

His raised eyebrow told me he _really _wanted me to agree. Lucky for him, that was exactly what I wanted, too.

"No objections here," I squeaked, barely able to hear my own little voice myself over sound of my rapidly thumping heart.

"Now seeing as we're her guests," Cassidy said gently speaking to Tulip rather than me, "I think it'd be the polite thing to do if we made Ada the star of the show, if you catch my drift."

"I get you, skinny," Tulip replied. Then Cassidy took me by one hand, and Tulip took me by the other, and they both led me into the bedroom. 

As soon as we were all undressed and I'd laid back onto my bed, Cassidy leaned close to my ear and asked one last time, "Are you sure you wanna go through with this?"

"Yes, please," I whispered back to him. He nodded, and then soon, Cassidy was to the right of me, and Tulip to the left, and as he did all the little things with his mouth and his hands that made my breath short and my hair stand on end, she mimicked and followed suit on the opposite side. Every ear nibble and caress of the breast and spine-tingling touch of the fingertips down my skin was doubled, doubling my pleasure along with it. But I could only stand being teased for so long, and Cass knew it.

He gave me a long, tender, dizzying kiss on the lips, and then got up and moved to the edge of the bed, hovering over my bottom half before he plunged his head between my legs and generously began to eat my wet, sensitive pussy. I began moaning from the delicious sensation of it all, but my cries were quickly silenced by Tulips hard, eager kiss. Her tongue invaded my mouth, and I returned the favor.

Soon, she got up and straddled my stomach, lightly touching my chest with both hands as she rocked back and forth, her hot pussy grazing my skin. She let out excited gasps as she got closer and closer to orgasm. As she grabbed my right hand and placed it on one of her breasts, Cassidy continued working his tongue as he penetrated me with his long, skilled fingers, sending me into climax. As I let out a loud moan and my body arched, he never let up, and the sensation dragged on and on as Tulip then took my same hand and guided it to her pussy.

When my orgasm subsided, Cass stepped to the side to watch us, lightly stroking himself. From my position lying down, I'd slipped two fingers inside of her, tight and wet and soft, and was massaging her gently from the inside as she rode my hand. When I started rubbing her clit with my thumb, I could tell she was close.

Cass's masturbation in the corner also got more fervent as I went, and I kept it up for another minute until she came, loudly and violently, and then moved aside to catch her breath.

When she finally did, she looked at us both and said, "My turn to watch"

After all of that foreplay, I needed a good fucking. Cassidy's massive erection was such a tease, and I didn't feel satisfied until he laid on top of me and was finally deep inside me, voracious with wanting. I so badly needed his kiss as he pushed and rose against me, and I grabbed the back of his head and pulled it to me until he blessed me with his lips, not letting him go until I was satiated.

"Is there anythin' you'd like?" He mumbled into my right ear, never ceasing his rock-hard thrusts.

"Mmm, doggy?" I replied, and he dismounted and I got into position on all fours.

"Can we go this way?" He asked, pointing in the opposite direction, and when I remembered the sliding mirrored doors of the closet at the foot of my bed, I understood why.

This time, when I got on my hands and knees and poised my ass into the air for him, I could see everything reflected back at me. I let out a shout as he entered me from behind, and as he took rough, deep strokes within me, he grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me into him with every movement. I couldn't help but swear out loud, loving everything about the fast, hard sensation, and the touch and sounds our bodies made as my pussy clapped against him. The mirror reflected every bounce off my breasts, and every movement he made with his limber, tattooed body. I loved watching his face at its most primal level of pleasure. I never enjoyed myself more than when he was fully in control, and I didn't hold back one second of the gratification I was feeling.

When he got a little bit faster and more aggressive, I knew exactly what was about to happen.

"Cum inside me. Please," I moaned and he obliged, giving me his all with those last, hardest strokes. When he was done, I backed up onto him a couple times for good measure, making him give out quick, terse groans. Still inside of me, he leaned over and kissed me on the shoulder, and in the mirror I could see his wild smile.

I was so caught up in him that I'd completely forgotten we'd had an observer.

"Shit," Tulip said, hand between her legs, fresh off another orgasm. "I may need you two to show my boyfriend a couple of your tricks."

"Any time," Cassidy replied, grinning mightily. 


	11. "Go to Hell"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassidy isn't too thrilled to find out the identity of Tulip's boyfriend.

Before Sunday's service, I decided it might be nice to pop in a few minutes early to see Cassidy. As I made my way up the stairs to his attic, I was surprised to spy him on the second floor balcony overlooking the empty chapel. He was leaning on the railing, fretting over something, and I knocked softly on the open door behind him to let him know I was there without surprising him.

When he saw me, he looked happier, but not by much. The way the strong arches of his eyebrows raised in the middle gave him away.

"Adelaide, I’ve got to talk to you," he said in a whisper, and I joined him on the balcony rail. "It's important."

While it was far from the first time he'd had something "important" to tell me, I'd never seen him look quite this serious and sullen. Usually, any news from him was punctuated by smiles and snorts, and wild hand movements as he reenacted action-packed fights and chases. This time, it would be different. It was worrisome.

"What's going on, Cass?" I asked, gently touching his arm.

"Well," he started, "you know the boyfriend Tulip's been going on about, the one who doesn’t do right by her and such?"

"Well yeah," I said. "He’s all she talks about."

"But do you know who he is? The man’s name?"

"Uh... no," I said, realizing I didn't. "She's never mentioned it."

"Well, it’s Jesse," he said in a low hiss. "Can you see how that complicates things a bit for us, here?"

"Shit, Cass," I replied, reeling a bit from the realization. I tried to retrace the clues and see how they fit together. "If I would have known... she was the one who convinced me that our boyfriends would be totally into it."

"And I was," Cass responded, as warmly as he could given the circumstances. He smiled, but there was something uneasy behind it. "It was truly a feast for the senses. But excuse me for feelin' a bit weird joining in on a three-way with my girl and me best mate's girlfriend."

It was a lot to handle, and for a moment I was at a loss for words. There were a lot of things I could say, but none of them felt right. Even when I spoke, I wasn't sure.

"I don't know if this makes things better, but it's not like you slept with her?" I eventually said, timidly. "You didn't even touch her."

"But I saw all of her," he said. "I watched you finger her, I watched her masturbate, and I think she might've bumped her back into my head a coupla times when she was doing that whole writhin' thing. Point is, it just don't sit right, keeping a secret like that from Jess." 

Why was it that whenever Jesse Custer's name came up, it was because he was complicating my life?

"I understand that you feel the need to tell him," I replied, shaking my head. "And I clearly have the least to lose out of the three of us. But you can't just tell him. We need to consider Tulip."

"I know," he whined. "But that's not all. I'm worried about Jess, too. How he'll respond."

"Isn’t preaching the good word supposed to be all about love and forgiveness?" I asked. "Maybe... hopefully he'll understand it was just an honest mistake." 

"I mean, _yes. _But honestly, I really don't know, Ada. He can be a bit preoccupied with the shit he's got goin' on, maybe take it the wrong way."

"Well, what are our options, Cass?" I asked. "What can we do now? What's done is done, and the only thing we can do is create the best path forward."

"I mean, there's the option of getting even."

"And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"We could... you know..." he said, waggling his head emphatically. "But with Jess, this time around."

I couldn't believe him.

"I'm not gonna have a threesome with Jesse, if that's what you're implying," I said, flatly.

"Alright, alright," he said. "'Twas a dumb idea anyway. But... do you mind my askin' why not?"

"Like you guessed the day we met," I said. "Not my type. Don't see it happening. And anyway, you wouldn't get a little bit jealous?"

"Well, I'd be right there along with youse, and I think it'd be a beautiful thing. He's a handsome bloke, you know."

Suddenly something clicked—something I hadn't quite realized before.

"You have a little bit of a crush on him, don't you?" I said, more playful and teasing than accusatory.

"What would you say if I did?" he raised an eyebrow.

"I'd say it's kinda sweet. But don't you go on falling in love with him, you hear me?"

"With you around?" he asked. "Never." He crept up close and kissed me, and the tension in my shoulders loosened and I felt almost normal again. I did believe him. It was a brief and tantalizing distraction before reality snapped back into place.

"Well, with that option off the table," he continued, "y'know I don't want to press this upon you, but I think it might be wise if you had a bit of a chat with Tulip. She's keen on you, y'know, and I don't think she needs to hear from someone she's barely met about the ethics of accidentally almost shagging her man's best mate."

"You're right, Cass," I said with a sigh.

"I'd volunteer meself if that were an option," he said.

"It'll be alright," I said. "It just feels like sometimes my life revolves around Jesse Custer. Like everything that everyone does is about his preservation."

"Look," he reassured me. "I know you don't have the best impression of 'im, but he's one of the finest people I know. And I'm sure Tulip would say the same."

"It's just, when people talk about him, it's like they're under some kind of spell. Not just the two of you. The entire town." I wasn't sure if I should say it, but it was all I could think about. "And how can I know he hasn't used his power on both of you?"

To Cassidy, the question had come out of nowhere.

"Now why would he do a thing like that?" he asked, incredulous.

"On Tulip, because she's pretty. On you... Well, maybe the same reason. Plus it can be handy to have a vampire around. Either way, I think he's abusing his ability, the way everyone's clamoring over him."

"And I've spoken to 'im about that. But, y'know, he's got this whole idea about God's plan for him. He believes it belongs to him and he intends to do good with it."

I must've looked pretty annoyed right then.

"Listen," he said," I've never forgotten what you asked me. I'm bein' careful around him and if he even did one teensy suspicious thing you'd be the first to know, all right?"

"I know Cass." I reached over for his hand and then squeezed it tight in mine. "I know."

Then there was the sound of a door creaking open, and footsteps, and downstairs we noticed that Jesse was preparing his sermon for the day.

"Should we go upstairs?" I asked Cass, barely making a sound. I felt like I was eavesdropping, and it didn't help that I'd just been talking shit about the preacher behind his back.

"No. Listen. I think you actually need more exposure to Jesse, right?" he whispered. The both of us stepped back from the railing and leaned against the back wall. "Maybe you'll start seein' what the rest of us see."

That was when a kid walked in. The one with the anus for a face. I must have looked just as mystified the second time seeing him, because Cassidy felt the need to explain.

"That's... well, I don't know his name," Cass said, "but a shotgun to the head turned the poor soul into an arse face."

"Who would do something like that to him?"

"He did," Cassidy shrugged.

I couldn't hear exactly what the two of them were saying down there, but it didn't take long before things got pretty heated. The urge to listen in took control of us both, and we were both completely silent as we observed.

I heard a few words—ungrateful, deserving—but the last four words were unmistakable, resonating deeply through the chapel. _**"Go to Hell, Eugene."**_

And like that, the boy disappeared without a sound, his church program falling to the ground like the last autumn leaf from a dead tree. Jesse looked around in a stunned silence, picking up the flyer, before he walked out the front door.

"What the _fuck_ did he just do, Cass?" I demanded.

"Look, I can’t explain that. That was… Well, shite."

Nothing could prepare me for what I'd just seen. It left me feeling sick to my stomach. 

"Cass..." I started, and then paused, and thought. "Look, I’m not upset at you, and I don't blame anything on you, but I’m gonna need you to figure out this whole thing with Jesse. I don’t know what kind of man he is, and I know that you know him a hell of a lot better than I do, but this kinda shit terrifies me. I need you to figure out if he's someone you can really trust. I don't know what he's capable of, and I don't think I want to find out. I have to go."

I stepped away.

"Adelaide, wait…" he said, gently placing a hand on my shoulder. I stopped and turned to him.

"I just need some time to think, Cassidy," I said. "I’m not mad at you. I’m scared for you."

"I get that, okay," he said. "I’m gonna have a talk with him. A _real_ talk, and I'm gonna get to the bottom of this. If he can’t prove he's a good guy, then me and him are done, alright?"

He was dead serious, and that was a huge relief to me.

"Thank you, Proinsias. I know it's not easy." I gave him a quick, sweet kiss on the lips, and then left.

As I made my way out, a horde of churchgoers was filing their way in. Emily was out on the porch, handing out pamphlets.

"Ada!" she called out to me as I tried to slip past. "Leaving so soon?"

"Yeah, y'know, something just came up, out of the blue," I said, pausing. "I'm sorry to miss the service today."

She motioned for me to follow her around the corner of the porch, where it was quieter, and so I did.

"I just wanted to thank you real quick," she said. "Tulip was over, earlier, and I think we sorted some stuff out. She said it was your idea."

"Oh, that was nothing," I said. I'd nearly forgotten about that. "I'm glad you got to talk."

"And Cassidy," Emily went on. "I'm not a betting woman, but I would have wagered he never would have gotten around to fixing that air conditioner before he skipped out. But he did it. He seems—motivated, I guess? Seems like that's your doing, too."

"He can be a really hard worker when he wants to be," I nodded, a little proud.

"It's unexpected is all," she said, thoughtfully. "I don't know how you manage."

"I'm not some kind of troublemaker whisperer," I replied. "They're my friends. I help out when I can."

"I suppose," she said. "It's just some people, you can give 'em all the help in the world and it'll never sink in."

"You can only do so much," I said. "It took me a while, but I guess I've learned not to stick around too long where I'm not appreciated. You're not gonna make someone care about you just wanting it bad enough. Closest you can do is wear them down until they give so few shits that they cave in. And you never want that."

"I... I know how that goes." She stumbled. "I... Well, darn. What... What do you think of Miles? The mayor."

She gave me an embarrassed smile. I knew exactly what she meant.

"I think someone as capable as you can do a lot better."

"Even with three kids?"

"Even with the kids." I repeated.

"But you also think I should abandon this silly Jesse thing?"

"Like I said, you can do better." She looked at me like was speaking a different language.

"What do you mean? He's handsome, he's devoted to God, and look at all the good he's doing for the town."

"I don't know that he's doing _that_ much good, but I guess I see your point," I said. 

"And how are things going with you and Cassidy, anyway?"

Here I was, giving advice to this poor woman, when my own boyfriend was a jobless, drug-addicted vampire who camped out rent-free in a church attic.

"Things can get _complicated_ sometimes, but I don't know what I'd do without him," I said, and just the thought of him put a smile on my face. "Guess I have no right to say who's good for who when... You know."

That prompted her to give me a stern looking-at. 

"Look Ada," she said, suddenly quite clear, "I don't think it'll surprise you to know I haven't thought much of Cassidy and his... ways. But maybe those kinds of feelings, the ones that make you wanna do dumb things and throw all discretion to the wind, are worth pursuing, sometimes."

"You might be right." I said, nodding. "Or maybe you just gave me the worst advice of my life."

When she hugged me, a big, tight bear hug out of nowhere, it caught me completely off guard, but it was welcome.

"I think I'm gonna start demanding more," she said when the hug broke off. But the church was starting to fill, and it was time for her to go. "You keep going after what you deserve."

She disappeared into the crowd as I walked to my car, still unsure, but feeling like things might not be so bad after all.

* * *

When I got home, I didn't feel quite right. I didn't like leaving Cass that way, even if he knew it wasn't his fault. Things were off, and then all the bad thoughts I hadn't allowed myself to think in the past started creeping in. 

Maybe coming back to Texas had been one huge mistake. I adored everything about Cassidy, and his warm grin, and his jokes, and the way he held me, and his endless tales of mischief and adventure, but would I feel the same way about him once the honeymoon period wore off? Did we actually have a future together, or was this all just temporary fun? I wasn't exactly sure if I did ever want to settle down, buy a house in the suburbs and start a family, but if I did, that would probably be an impossibility for him. Among his many glowing qualities, being a stable provider didn't seem like one off them.

Maybe he would actually stick around, and he'd stay young and gorgeous for eternity while I withered away. He'd either leave me for someone younger and prettier, or actually stick around and be forced to watch me die, and get left all alone for the rest of time. He abused drugs. He'd killed people, and he'd likely kill more. And that was only if we both survived Jesse's recklessness. I didn't want to have to be the one to drive the wedge between them, but I'd have to if Cass was being endangered in any way. Even Cassidy was concerned, and that wasn't a good sign.

But that was enough of that negativity. I tried best as I could to push it away. If I knew one thing, it was that I cared deeply about Cassidy, and he cared deeply about me. I'd seen his soul, deep down, and I accepted whatever darkness I saw with all the light that came with it. Being away from him suddenly felt wrong, and the only remedy was to hear his sweet voice.

I called, and got no answer, and then I shot him a text to call me when he got the chance, and then I put my phone down, and the hours that passed after that creeped agonizingly and twisted my stomach into knots and squeezed at my lungs so I couldn't ever quite get a full breath of air.

Again, my brain went to the worst places. He never wanted to see me again. _Jesse _had ordered him never to see me again. I found myself loathing a man for a scenario I'd made up in my head and had to catch myself.

Just when I thought I was going to lose it, my phone rang, loud and clear. I picked it up without even looking to see who'd called, so when I heard Tulip's voice on the other line, my heart sank.

"Ada, I don't know what the hell is going on," she rattled, frantically, "but you have to meet me at my uncle's house. It's bad."

"What's bad?" I demanded.

"It's Cassidy," she said. "Something goddamn horrible has happened to Cassidy."


	12. The Heist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ada steps out of her comfort zone to do what it takes to help Cassidy.

Tulip was waiting for me outside of her uncle's place when I arrived. She was pacing and visibly shaken, and at the sight of her, my heart somehow sank deeper into my body than the pit in my stomach where it was already resting.

"Ada, this isn't going to be easy for you," she warned me, her breaths hard and shallow, "and I don't want to freak you out, but I'm gonna need your help. I didn’t know who else to call and, well, I thought you should be here."

"What happened?" I pleaded, desperate. "Is he gonna be okay?"

"I don't know!" she shouted back. "I don't know what's going on, but it's bad. And when I moved him into my car, when he was in the light... well he _sizzled_."

I breathed a deep, rough sigh.

"Tulip, I’m about to say some stuff, and it’s going to sound fuckin' crazy, so you’re just gonna have to bear with me, okay?"

She stated at me expectantly, waiting for me to spill the beans.

"Cassidy... well, he's a vampire," I said, trying to sound matter-of-fact about it, so there’d be no question.

"So he’s like a Dracula?" she asked. "Sucking blood, turning into a bat?" If she didn't believe me, she was hiding it well.

"Something like that," I said, not feeling I really had time to explain. "I'll help you get Cass inside."

When I approached Tulip's car, I wasn't prepared for what I saw crumpled up in the back seat. Cassidy's body was scarred and burned from head to toe, covered in oozing pink lesions. He looked utterly helpless. Barely alive. I felt like I'd been punched in the chest, and my stomach lurched. I was so thankful he was at least unconscious, but his breathing was fast and labored, and his slumber appeared anything but restful.

"Any chance you could run in there and get me a sheet?" I choked out the words. "Nothing fluffy or fleecy. Smooth, if you can. I just need this to be as comfortable as possible for him."

Tulip didn't hesitate. She ran inside and grabbed exactly what Cass needed, and together, we managed to wrap it around his smoldered body. It was a struggle to get him inside smoothly, but we did it. Thank goodness the sun had already set.

Tulip guided me to a guest room in the back, and we carefully laid Cassidy down on the bed. I then checked, and double-checked, every window fixture, pulling the curtains tight to ensure that no additional harm would come his way when the sun rose again in the morning. Once he was situated, we left him alone to rest.

The door had a deadbolt, and I made sure it was securely closed. 

"What's that for?" she asked in a whisper.

"Just being careful," I answered quietly, being careful not to disturb Cass. "I don’t know what happens when he wakes up." My intuition didn't tell me it was going to be alright, and that terrified me.

We moved into the living room, where an older man was passed out on a recliner in his boxers and an undershirt. Tulip didn't pay him any mind.

We were quiet and fidgety for a long while after that.

"How did this happen?" I finally gathered the courage to ask.

It took her a second to respond.

"I don’t know, exactly," she said. "We were all at dinner, and then Jesse left, and then Cassidy followed him out, carrying a fire extinguisher. Not long after that, Jesse came back with the extinguisher. Cassidy didn’t. And then when I left, I found him outside. Like this."

If Jesse had done this to him, I swore to God I was going to kill that man. But that was a problem for another time. For now, I just had to figure out how to make Cass better. In my daze I was already formulating half a plan, but I didn't like it.

"What now?" she asked as I she saw my gears turning.

"Tulip, I’m about to propose something really fucking stupid, and I’m gonna need you to talk me out of it."

"I like the sound of that," she said, perking up for the first time since we'd arrived, and I knew she wasn't planning to talk me out of anything.

"I think..." I breathed deep. "I think I want to rob the hospital."

"Well now you’re talkin'," she said. "This your first heist?"

"I've never so much as nicked a pack of gum, let alone broken in anywhere."

"Well, you're gonna need a partner. And that partner is me." She was dead serious, and I couldn't have appreciated it more.

"You sure?" I asked. "I haven’t even told you what I’m planning."

"Doesn’t matter," she said. "I’m in. Robbing a hospital can't be that much different than holding up a bank, right?"

"But no guns and masks and stuff," I corrected her. "I was thinking something... subtler?"

Tulip looked disappointed.

"That's burglary," she explained. "_Not _robbery."

"What's the difference?"

"The threat of violence is the main thing," she told me, patiently. "And robberies are way more fun. But I think burglary might be more your speed. For your first time, anyway."

Tulip was more than happy to walk me, in detail, through the steps of what it would take to pull off a successful heist. First off, it was never a one-woman-job. In a team of two, one person would serve as the distraction, capturing the attentions of guards and cameras and whatnot, while the other one did the sneaking, smashing and grabbing.

"I think it'll work best if you're the decoy," Tulip laid out, "but we're also gonna want a secondary distraction to get them off my trail."

"Maybe something that packs a little pyrotechnic punch?" I suggested.

"Well, I can show you how to make plastique bombs?" she said, looking excited. "All you need is some household stuff..."

"How about something a little less destructive?" I said. I could tell my caution was killing her buzz a little. "Maybe something that makes a big boom and fizzles with a lot of smoke, but isn't going to accidentally blow anyone up."

"Yeah, I figure we can put something together," she said, trying to hide that she'd been let down once again. "Also, you're gonna wanna wear something sexy for the guards."

I didn't love the idea. 

"You really think that'll be necessary?" I asked.

"Oh, absolutely," she said. "And I have just the thing for you."

Whatever she had in store for me, I could rest assured in the fact that I probably wouldn't fit into any of her clothes. She was teeny tiny, and even though she was the smallest bit taller than me, I simply didn't believe I could squeeze into any of her petite duds.

I don’t know when she’d had the time to grab her seemingly infinite wardrobe from my place, but after stepping into the other room, she returned in moments with a few pieces in her hands that I prayed would be too small.  
“Try these on.” She tossed the little pile to me. “You’ll definitely be turning some heads.”

I don’t know how, but I managed to squeeze into the leather miniskirt and the little white top that pushed and squeezed my chest up and out to ridiculous proportions. Somehow, against my best wishes, it worked.

“Perfect," she smiled. "And one last thing. Turn around for a sec?”

I did, and then she started bundling my hair up into a ponytail and securing the dangling bit to my scalp with what seemed like a thousand bobby pins. It definitely felt strange, but she was oddly efficient with the process, and when she was done, she placed something tightly over my head.

When I finally saw myself in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. The short, blonde wig made a stark contrast with my dark eyebrows, but I supposed the fact that I didn't look like me was a very good thing.

“You’re letting me be Marnie… whatsername?” I asked in awe.

“Pomerantz,” she said. “And yeah. Just for tonight. Seems like you need this a lot more than I do. And you'll need this.”

She handed me a pack of minty gum.

"What's this for?"

"Marnie chews gum."

"Alright," I said to the newly blonde me staring back at me in the mirror, with Tulip nodding approvingly behind me. "Let's go burgle a hospital."

* * *

I'd anticipating feeling like an idiot marching into the hospital in my skimpy outfit and high, high heels, but knowing I was on a mission to save the person I cared about most gave me a strange sense of confidence and purpose. Of course, I wasn't here to look badass. I was here for a reason, and I ran up to the check-in counter with a sense for urgency in each step.

"Sorry, miss," the mustached, middle-aged security guard at the counter uttered, not looking up from his newspaper. "Visiting hours are over."

It was time to turn on the waterworks. I'd felt like I'd been one minor inconvenience from crying ever since I'd first seen the state Cassidy was in, and just thinking about his pain was enough to get the tears running.

"Please, sir..." I started sobbing, forcing the Texas twang back into my accent, and he finally looked up at me. For once in my life, getting a strange man to stare at my chest was exactly what I wanted. I glimpsed his name tag. "_Manny_. It's just, my boyfriend, he was in an accident and I don't know any of the details, I just need to check in and know if he's okay."

Suddenly, he was quite sympathetic to my plight.

"I just might be able to swing that, darlin'," he said in a way he didn't realize was incredibly off-putting. Of course, I had a job to do.

"Oh thank you so much, Manny. I don't know how I could ever repay you."

"No need," he said with a smile, checking the log. "Latest admission looks like a Wilkins, Jonathan, aged 33. He yours?"

"Yes!" I lied as convincingly as I could. "My poor Jonny, is he okay?"

"It looks like he's in intensive care. Has its own wing on the second floor. You may not be able to get into his actual room. You'll have to speak with the nurses to get more information than what I have here."

"Thank you so much, Manny. Really," I said, and then glanced down at the counter. "Should I sign the check-in list?

"Nah," he said, waving his hand at the clipboard. "It'll keep us both out of trouble if this is off the record."

"I understand," I said, smiling through my tears.

As he explained the too-complicated process of getting up to the ICU, I wore a frazzled and confused look on my face.

"Is there anything else I can do for, miss?” he asked afterward, his chest puffed out, trying to be the hero.

"Any chance you could walk me over to the elevators? Hospitals give me the creeps and I lose my way easily, 'specially when I'm spooked."

He was more than eager to help, leaving the front desk unattended. He led me through a door with a keypad—code 5634—and down a long corridor, then through another door on the left. I asked him if we could pause so I could get a drink from the water fountain, and once I had, we went down another hall until we were at the elevators.

I thanked him again profusely, and then he whistled merrily as he sauntered back toward his desk.

As soon as his back was turned, I texted Tulip.

"You owe me $56.34," I typed before sending the message.

No later than it was sent did I hear a painfully loud bang back the way I'd come. I ran in the direction of the sound in a frenzy.

I don't think Manny was hurt by it—it was all noise and flash, after all—but he was flat on his ass as it sparked in front of him.

"What was that?" I shouted, with fear in my voice as I approached.

"Stay back," he grunted. "It's dangerous."

I feigned terror.

"Should we call for help, or...?"

"No. I have this under control," he insisted. "Best not to get anyone involved that doesn't have to be."

He winked at me, awkwardly. Guess he really wasn't supposed to let sexily clad ladies in after hours, particularly without signing in.

"Won't I be all over the security footage?"

"I can wipe it," Manny said, relatively confidently. "Replace the footage with another quiet night's. No one will know the difference. Probably just another damn kid's prank, anyhow."

"Aw, you don't have to go through that trouble for little old me," I half-flirted, trying to sound cute, and not quite believing our luck. At this point, all I needed to do was kill time.

"I know, mostly doing it to save my own ass," he chuckled. "Don't you worry. No one will ever see a second of this floor's footage from the last hour."

"Thank you, Manny," I said. "Anyhow, my Jonny is waiting for me upstairs."

When I returned to the elevator, I had a text back from Tulip.

"Sounds good." She wrote. "Got the drinks. They didn't even card me."

"Cool," I wrote back. "See you in 20."

I hid in the bathroom for 20 minutes—hopefully an appropriate amount of time for my "visit"—and waved a thankful goodbye to Manny as I left, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. We'd done it, and every shred of evidence would be wiped clean before the morning.

In a dark corner of the parking lot, Tulip was waiting for me in her car. In the passenger's seat was a thick metal briefcase.

"Wanna see?" she asked, looking proud. I absolutely did.

She popped the case open, and inside, on top of frozen cold packs, were at least a dozen bags of fresh, cold blood of all types.

"You know, you're pretty good at this," she said with a smile. "Sure you don't want to pull a job with Jess and me sometime?"

"I'm sure," I nodded. As exhilarating as this one experience was, it felt like enough of this kind of thing to last me a lifetime.

We drove home in the dark, without her headlights on, to not draw any attention, and we couldn't get back to her uncle's place quickly enough.

"Tulip, how can I ever repay you for all this?" I asked.

"Well," she considered, "I have one thing you could do for me."

"What is it?"

"Never speak of what happened between you and me and Cass to _anyone_—especially not Jesse."

It felt like it came out of nowhere.

"Are you...?" I started, and then paused to think. "Look. Cassidy doesn't feel right keeping it a secret from Jesse."

"Well, he's not in much of a position to demand that right now," she said, frankly.

I really didn't like her tone, but this didn't seem the time or the place to have that argument. Plus, I did owe her.

"Okay," I said. "My lips are sealed. _For now_." She groaned, and as much as I knew I'd have to try again, we had bigger fish to fry. 

"Anyhow," she continued, "I hate to do this right now, but I'm going to have drop you off. Then I'll be gone for a little while."

"Where are you headed?"

"Albuquerque," she answered, like it was obvious.

"In the middle of the night?"

"Yup. Something urgent came up. I have to deal with it. Hope you understand." She didn't look at me as she drove.

"Yeah," I said, even though I didn't understand at all. What I _did_ get was that I'd just have to let her do her thing. 

"Sometimes, you just gotta do something _way_ out there to get your relationship back on track," she mused.

Suddenly, I understood. 


	13. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desperate times call for desperate measures as Ada works to make Cassidy himself again

The street was pitch black and the blood was still rushing in my head when Tulip dropped me off, tires squealing against the pavement as she raced off to Albuquerque. I didn’t know if it was the leftover rush from a successful caper, or apprehension about what might happen next.

From the minute I walked into the house, it was clear that the situation had changed. I was thankful that Tulip's uncle Walter was still passed out peacefully in his armchair, but Cass was no longer simply wrestling with fitful sleep. He was awake, and in pain, and the inhuman shrieks coming from the locked bedroom made my veins run hot with dread.

I was scared, but I had to go in there. For him. I grabbed four bags of blood—one each of O, A, B and AB, to cover all my bases—and stepped up to the door. I stood there for too long before I finally gathered the courage to unlock the door. When he momentarily stopped his anguished gasping at the sound of the door creaking open, I couldn't help but anticipate the worst.

As I stepped inside, the thing that looked up at me from a huddled position in the corner of the room wasn’t Cassidy. There was no humanity behind his now dull hazel eyes, and his blistered skin was barely hanging onto his body. He stared hungrily up at me, like I were a piece of meat, but he was so, so weak. I couldn't be grateful for that, even if his lack of strength was the only thing preventing him from hurting me.

It was then that he lunged toward me with a snarl, but he couldn’t make it more than a couple of feet across the room. I held back a shriek and tossed the bags of blood out in front of him, and then he scampered over to them and plunged his teeth into the first of the bags, drinking ravenously as spilled blood fell from the bag, coating himself and the room. He quickly drained the first bag, and then dug his fangs into the second before I’d had enough. While he was preoccupied, I silently left the room and locked the door again behind me.

Once I was outside, I leaned against the door, not daring to move. I knew it might not be completely safe there, but if and when something changed, I had to be around. As fearful as I was of what might happen if he regained his strength, I was a lot more scared that he might never. So I sat, and I listened, and shortly after the sounds of hungry gulping stopped, he began to whimper again. It was softer, this time, and I hoped with all of my heart that he was healing. I undid the lock and opened the door, just a crack, to toss in another bag, before locking it tight again. This time, his feeding was slower, and then stopped.

Then I waited, and waited. Hours passed, and my heart skipped a beat when he uttered his first words.

"Help me," he growled in a rough, deep voice that didn’t quite sound like his own. "I'm… I’m hungry," he cried out, with the terror of a lost child.

It was progress, but I tried not to get my hopes up too much. I peeked in with another bag of blood in hand, ready to toss it over to him, whatever state he was in. I only caught a glimpse of him, but it looked like his skin had scabbed over somewhat. He was improving, but he was nowhere close to healed. He hadn't even finished the last blood bag he'd punctured, and when he looked over at me, there was still no recognition. He didn't see me. He saw prey.

I tossed the other bag inside, and then slammed and locked the door. So he was hungry, but he wasn't feeding. On some subconscious, primal level, he must have understood that the only thing that could make him better was something alive. A human being.

As my mind raced, I fantasized about who I'd love to feed to Cassidy. Of course, it was no use. If I could have my way, I'd have thrown Odin Quincannon in that room with him in a heartbeat. That wasn't exactly in the cards. And there was no way, in Cassidy's stronger, more conscious state, that I could safely transport him anywhere without risking my own life. I didn't even know if a single person's blood would be enough to fix the damage.

And then, oh so briefly, a thought popped into my head. What if Jesse Custer... I had to push it away. Whatever I thought of him, I couldn't do that. Not unless I was positive he'd been the one who inflicted this on Cass. And with Cassidy in this state, I didn't see myself getting that answer any time soon.

Now, Cassidy was mumbling in the room to himself, his words sounding frenzied and terrified. I couldn’t stand it. Not knowing what else I could do, I started talking to him.

"Hey, Cassidy," I said, in as soothing a voice I could manage in the moment. The muttering stopped.

"I know you’re still in there," I said, even though I hoped it more than I actually believed it, "and I’m gonna help you get better. I don’t know how, but we’re going to make it through this, and things are going to go back to normal, okay?"

At this point, I was struggling to hold back tears, but I kept my voice strong. For his sake, I couldn't waver. If he could hear me at even the most subconscious of levels, I had to stay strong for him. I had to tell him what I'd been feeling.

"I know we haven’t said it yet, but I need you to know that I love you," I declared. "From the very bottom of my heart. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had—the only one who's cared to truly know me. And I don’t know what I’d do without you, so you need to get better for me, okay? I need you to know that I'd do anything for you."

I was silently sobbing now, and there was nothing but silence from the other end of the door for a long while. It made me sick to know that I might’ve spoken those words into a void, but I knew I had to try.

More time passed, and then his murmuring resumed. I felt utterly defeated. I didn't have many options. The situation felt hopeless.

That was, besides the one option that I'd turned over and over in my head before I dared say anything aloud.

"Proinsias," I said through the door. I knew he wouldn’t be able to answer me, but I had to give voice to what I was considering. "What… what would happen if I let you bite me? I mean, you’d get better and I… well I’d either die or I’d become like you.”

And then I heard a shuffling from the room, and it got louder and closer until he was beating angrily against the door. I flinched, and moved away from it. This reaction was different, and honestly, it scared the shit out of me.

"If that’s what I had to do to save you, you know I'd do it, right?" I continued. "Being like you wouldn’t be so bad. There'd be things I’d miss, sure, but... well, I know we’ve only known each other a few weeks, so I feel like an idiot saying this, but I do wanna spend the rest my life with you Cass. I wanna spend the rest of time with you. I just… I just I wish I knew what to do right now."

And then he slammed against the door again, more furiously this time, and I was terrified that the hinges would bust and he'd come toppling through it. Deep down, I wasn’t ready for that—but maybe that was exactly what needed to happen.

I was so focused on the sounds coming from the bedroom that when there was a polite knocking at the front door, I jumped. I attempted to compose myself, clumsily wiping at the tears with the corner of my shirt, before going to the front of the house to answer the door.

I didn’t know who I was expecting, but I was a little relieved, and surprised, when I saw that it was Emily from church. All it took was a glance at me to make a look of concern spread across her brow.

"I was just checking in because Walter didn't show up to his shift today, but... What are you doing here?" she asked. "Are you okay?"

"It’s a long story," I said, trying not to look as miserable as I felt. I hadn't even realized it was morning. "It’s… It’s kind of a lot, and I'd understand if you didn't wanna get involved."

"Don't worry about that," she said, her maternal instincts shining through. "I consider you a friend. Tell me what’s goin' on."

I invited her in as I got her up to speed. "So this is gonna sound like I made it up, and I promise you I didn’t, but… Cassidy’s a vampire. Something happened, and he got left in the sun, and now he’s… he’s really hurt."

I started crying again, and she was quick to come over to console me, pulling me tightly to her. I didn't know her that well, but it meant the world to have someone there to just listen, and the shushing sounds she made seemed exactly what I needed to soothe my soul.

"Is there anything I can do?" she offered. "Take him to the hospital?"

"Hospital won’t help," I said. "He’s a different kind of hurt. I don’t know for sure, but I think the only thing that’ll help now is feeding. On a live person."

"A person, huh?" Emily remarked, and for a few seconds she seemed like she was somewhere far away, lost in thought. Then she turned to me, with a slightly mischievous smile on her face. It wasn't what I'd expected in the slightest.

"Ada, I have an idea," she said, and then pulled out her phone, and excused herself to make a call.

* * *

I concealed myself in the bathroom as the mayor arrived. He called out Emily's name as he searched for her, and like magic, Miles Persson walked down the corridor straight to to Cassidy's room. I didn't see what happened, but he shouted her name one last name, and then I heard the slam of a door and the locks clasping before he rattled against the bolted door. Then Cassidy snarled as the mayor's shouts for help grew more and more despairing, until they stopped entirely. When he grew silent, I came out of my hiding place.

I couldn’t quite read the expression on Emily‘s face, but there was a strange sense of peace to it. Maybe even a glow.

"Uh, do you wanna talk about what just happened?" I asked her, not quite believing what had just unfolded.

"No, not really." She smiled. Her warmth was strangely infectious, given the circumstances. "So, how long is it gonna take until he’s better?"

"I don’t know," I answered. "If it does make him better. But I seriously can’t thank you enough for doing that for me. For us."

"Hey, I was doing myself a favor too," she said. "I can stick around for a little bit, 'til my kids get off school. In case you need the company?"

"I’d like that," I said.

On the other side of the door, I could still hear Cassidy feeding. It wasn’t pretty, and I wondered when it would be safe. If it ever got safe.

All we could do now was wait and see. Time passed, and Emily and I were watching _Psycho _on a tiny TV in the living room when there was another knock at the door.

I anticipated the worst. If the sheriff caught wind of this, who knows the trouble we could have gotten into.

Somehow, the last person I'd expected when I went to go answer the door was Jesse Custer. I greeted him there, but I didn't feel quite ready to let him in.

"Hi," he said, looking a bit bewildered. "Do I know you?"

I didn't know how I should react to him yet. I felt frozen. But then logic got the better of me, and I forced myself to at least try to be normal until I knew the whole story.

"Ada Yates," I said, extending my hand. I considered telling him we'd already met, but it seemed pointless now.

"So you're the Ada I've heard so much about," he said. The smile on his face seemed genuine. "Both Tulip and Cass won't shut up about you. Where is Tulip, by the way?"

"She took off, late last night for Albuquerque," I told him. That didn't seem to mean anything to him.

"And what are you doing here?"

"I've been looking after Cassidy," I explained. "He's hurt." And then recognition dawned on his face, like he'd suddenly recalled something he'd been trying hard to forget. 

"You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" I probed, trying not to sound accusatory despite my blood beginning to boil.

"Shit," he muttered, sliding past me to head inside. "Where is he?" He looked frightened as he looked around feverishly. When he spotted Emily, still intently watching the movie, he quickly acknowledged her before he continued his search.

"He's in the back room with the lock," I told him as I stepped into the hall leading to Cass, "but I don't know if it's safe."

"I don't give a shit if it's safe, I need to see him," he demanded, rushing toward the room. I blocked him.

"If you do anything to hurt him, you're dead."

Jesse only looked at me, baffled.

"I'm not gonna hurt him. I just need to make this right," he said, and despite his sincerity, I remained cautious. Eventually, I did let him through, and he undid the lock and let himself in. He stopped just inside of the doorway as I listened carefully from outside.

When Cassidy told him to go away, my heart nearly stopped. Jesse stayed, despite the warnings, and though at first it seemed that Cass might still be dangerous, Jesse didn't give up on him. However hurt Cassidy might have been, in body as well as spirit, he was back. This was him. Relieved tears welled up in my eyes

From there, I heard everything I’d needed to hear. Cassidy's injuries were more his fault than Jesse's. He'd wanted to prove that Jess was the guy he knew he was, even if that meant putting his life on the line. In his shock, Jess just hadn't reacted quickly enough. It all sounded too wild to be true, but however it went down, Jesse was truly sorry, and the way Cass was joking with him made it appear that all was forgiven. It might have still taken me longer to forgive him, but for now, I had to admit he wasn't as villainous as I'd been making him out to be. 

And then the soft laughter stopped, and Cass's voice got low and sad and scared.

"Have you seen Ada?" he asked Jesse, and then I stepped out from behind the corner.

"I'm here, Cass," I said, seeing him again for the first time as I approached, sidestepping the mayor's body and crouching on the floor next to him. He was still missing hair and covered in horrendous, oozing burns, but he looked up at me like he'd seen a miracle. It didn't matter what he looked like as long as he was himself again, and I had to fight back tears.

"I didn't wantcha to see me like this," he said, smiling but also choking on his words. "I thought maybe something horrible had happened to you."

When he glanced over at the mayor's mangled corpse, I knew exactly what he meant.

I scooted up next to him and carefully placed an arm around his body. He leaned into me when I did. 

"I'm gonna let you two do some catching up," Jesse said, and we both looked to at him and nodded before he stepped out, closing the door behind him.

"Does that hurt?" I asked, feeling Cass's scarred skin on mine.

"No, love," he said, tearfully, and he held me back, tightly, like he never wanted to let go.

We were silent for a time, just overjoyed to be together and safe, whatever the scene might have looked like on the outside.

I could see the gears turning in his head leading up to the moment when he finally broke the silence.

"Adelaide, I heard every word ya said to me," he whispered as we held each other. "And I want you to know I'm in love with ya. I have been since the moment we met. And that's why I'm so sorry I put ya through this."

"I love you, too," I said to him, "with all of my heart. Whatever happened is okay, now. You're okay now."

"I don't deserve this kind of kindness, y'know. I coulda really fucked this up. But I was so afraid, Ada," he said, pain in his voice. "I wasn't in control o' meself back there, but when ya started talkin' about bitin' you... I had to fight. I hope... I think ya got the message."

"I did, Cass." I squeezed him. "Thank you for fighting for me."

"I don't know what I'd ever do with you," he said, and he pulled me closer.

"Well I'm here, and I'm safe," I said. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"When I'm better, when I'm me again, I'll make it all up to you, alright?" he said.

"I'd like that," I replied, and he flashed me a yellow-toothed smile.

"And don't you worry," he said. "I'm not gonna look like this for long. A coupla more bags o' blood and I'll be right as rain. Can you imagine making love to this monstrosity?" He laughed with a snort, like the mere thought was the worst thing he'd ever heard.

"You know that doesn't matter to me, Cass," I said, and I meant it.

"You'd shag this just cos my personality's inside? You know I love ya, but that's just plain wrong." He laughed again, and I couldn't help but join in.

"Where'd you get the blood?" Cass asked when he saw the drained bags strewn around the room.

"Hospital," I said, proudly. "Tulip and I pulled off a little heist together.

"Hmmm," Cass said, with a laugh. It was suspicious.

"What?" I asked.

"Well, if you're talking 'bout the Annville General Hospital, you can just march in the back room like ya belong there and walk out with as much blood as ya like and no one will even bat an eye or question ya."

"Huh."

I _knew_ our caper had been too easy. Tulip must've known too. The whole thing had been a big scheme for my benefit, to boost my confidence. Pretty tricky.

"And you lured the mayor in here?" Cass changed the subject.

"You mostly have Emily to thank for that," I said.

"Like _church_ Emily?" he asked. He was shocked. "Why would she do a thing like that for me?"

"I think she has her reasons. And we've kind of become friends. Anyhow, we have a body to get rid of. How 'bout I go grab Jess, and another bag of blood for you, and we figure this thing out?"

He took my right hand, brought it to the side of his face and then kissed it.

"Thank you, love."

When I got back with a couple of blood bags, the tubes pulled away like straws to transform them into hellish Capri Sun pouches, Cass was fiddling with what looked like an archaic phone.

"Phone to heaven," he explained nonchalantly as he pressed every button combination impossible. I handed him a blood bag to sip on. "Can't get the bloody thing to work, though."

"I think... I think you need angel hands to get it to work," Jesse explained as he stepped back inside the room.

Cass and I looked at each other with a look of amusement and recognition.

"Oh, yeah. No problem there, padre. I can get you angel hands," he said.

Jesse looked impressed, and didn't feel the need to ask any further questions. I helped Cass roll the mayor's body up into a rug, and we had our plans for the night sorted. 


	14. A Brief Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Cass goes into hiding, he pays Ada a special visit.
> 
> P.S. This is the period sex chapter. If you're not into that, you're probably better off just skipping it...

As much as I prayed things would return to normal after Cassidy had healed, that simply wasn’t going to be the case. I wasn’t fully filled in on all the details, but Jesse had apparently been in some sort of legal feud with Odin Quincannon over ownership of the church. This being Annville, that had led to a shootout, with a number of serious casualties, and now Jesse was a fugitive. Unfortunately, Cassidy’s association with him meant he was also on the lam, and the fact that the mayor was also missing didn’t help the situation any. There were huge targets on both of their backs.

Just when I’d started to think maybe Jesse wasn’t all that bad, life presented me with another massive reason to be displeased with him. After all Cass had been through, he deserved some peace and quiet. Selfishly, I also wanted him all to myself, for once. But Cassidy trusted Jesse, and so I’d at least try to give the man the benefit of the doubt—this time, anyway.

And to make matters worse, my relationship with Cass had also become general knowledge throughout town. While I'd have been proud to be seen on his arm and flaunt him around, it also meant we'd have to be careful. He had to go into hiding, and I couldn’t be there with him, or even contact him without the risk of exposing him. But Cassidy had made a promise to see me before he left, and he kept his word by paying me a visit the morning before their vanishing act.

It was broad daylight when he arrived, and he didn’t exactly look inconspicuous hiding under a giant sunhat, huge sunglasses, and thick, concealing layers in the morning heat. I let him inside as quickly as possible, and then he shed the extra clothing until he was down to a pair of tight jeans and a green tee layered under a plaid shirt.

When I could finally really see him, all back to his old, handsome self, I almost cried. Fuck, it had been an emotional couple of days, and the mere sight of him standing happy and healthy before me was nearly overwhelming.

“What’s the matter, love?” he asked when he noticed, stepping over to cradle me in his arms, looking down at me with concern on his face. He squeezed me tight, my head held under his, taking in my scent. I never wanted him to let me go.

“Nothing’s the matter, Cass,” I said, leaning into his chest. “I’m just happy.”

He smiled that sharp, arresting smile of his.

“I’m happy, too.” His voice was soft and warm.

I looked up at him and I felt so in love it made me dazed and dizzy.

“You know you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” I blurted out. In that moment he seemed perfect to me, and I couldn’t keep the thought to myself.

His reaction was to look more perplexed than anything else.

“Oh, sure,” he said, jokingly. Disbelieving. But then he thought on it for a second, looking me over with curiosity. “Y’know what? Thank you,” he interjected. “I s’pose I know how ya feel cos I think you’re the most gorgeous lass I ever laid eyes upon. And I’d very much like to kiss you.”

I stood up on my toes to meet his lips. My head spun and a tingly shiver ran down my spine, radiating outward into every fabric of my being. If he hadn’t been holding me tightly, I might have been too weak to stay upright. God, I wanted him now, but the timing was all wrong.

“I’m gonna miss you when you’re gone,” I told him, instead. “I’ll miss staring into those soulful eyes of yours, and making that sexy little dimple appear in your chin when you smile at me. I’ll miss playing with your chest hair and getting wrapped up in your arms and running up and down your tattoos with my fingers.” I didn't know why, but saying these things felt absolutely necessary. He smiled at me gently.

“Christ, I’ll miss ya, too,” he said. “But I’m just goin’ away for a little while, Adelaide. You’re tough, and you've survived worse things than this and we’ll make it through, alright?”

“I know,” I answered. “Doesn’t make it suck any less.”

“I also wantcha to know, it was Jesse who chose the whorehouse as our hiding spot. Not me. And there’ll be no funny business while I’m there, right.”

“I trust you, Cass,” I said. “Thank you.”

“And seeing as we won’t be seeing each other for a little while,” he continued, and then leaned in closer to my right ear to whisper temptingly, “I want this to be a special day for you.”

The mere suggestion was enough to get me even more hot and bothered than I already was, but I just couldn’t.

“Cass—I—well, it’s not really a good time for me,” I told him. “But I could always get you?” I pushed my body against his, and I could feel that he was already getting hard.

“It’s your monthlies, you mean,” he said, nodding.

“Well, yeah,” I admitted sheepishly.

He collected himself before he replied.

"Okay, well, hear me out on this,” he began, gesticulating wildly with his hands, “and you have every right to say no—and stop me if you think this is out of line—but look, I don’t see why this couldn’t be a mutually beneficial experience for the both of us. D’you get what I’m sayin’?”

That certainly took me by surprise.

“I… I think I do,” I stuttered. “But I want you to say it out loud in case I’m on the wrong track?”

“Listen. You’re bleedin’, I’m a vampire. Seems like a perfect situation, actually." He looked at me with a clenched smile, like he _might_ have just said something horrible, unable to anticipate my reaction.

“And how would that work, exactly?” I asked, the curiosity apparent in my voice.

“Well, I dunno,” he said. “There’s a first time for everythin’.”

“You mean you’ve never done it before?”

“Didn’t have the right girl before,” he said with a wink.

"And it's not gonna set you off and make you start thirsting for human blood?"

"Don't see why it would," he shrugged.

“Well, uh,” I stammered. “Yes. Let’s. Please.”

“Alright,” he smiled, and then kissed me another time, softly and sensually, before we got together to work out the logistics.

* * *

We laid out a couple of long, thick, red wine-colored bathroom towels across the middle of my bed before I undressed for him carefully, laying on my back, knees in the air and spread eagerly. He disrobed as well, revealing his lean, inked body, and I didn’t have to wait long before he was between my knees, face dug into my yearning pussy, and he took the first lap at the blood from inside me, making me gasp with bliss.

He pressed his hard tongue gently against me, and into me, invading again and again, and the rhythm of it was entrancing. God, his tongue felt so good inside me, and there was nothing I could do to hold back the euphoria I felt.

And he was certainly enjoying himself, savoring me with his tongue like I were a melting ice cream cone, and then he got to my clit, sucking and pressing masterfully until I bucked and moaned against him, and it wasn’t all that long after that I was crying in ecstasy and I came, hard and fast.

As I recovered, head swimming and breaths shallow, I looked down at him as he looked back at me, a dribble of blood surrounding his mouth, and he smiled at me fiendishly. The vampire thing had never played into the sexual aspect of our relationship before, and I understood suddenly why teen vampire romances were such a frenzy.

“Would you like another go?” Cass asked, tenderly, and there wasn’t anything I could have wanted more.

“Oh, Proinsias, yes please,” I exhaled.

He assumed his position above me again, his hard tongue darting against me and lapping up the sticky blood. It seemed that the more he drank, the more stimulated he became. He was strong, and laser-focused, and this time around mere seconds of working my clit with his warm mouth brought on a forceful orgasm.

“Oh, God, Cass,” I moaned out loud. “_Fuck_.”

He left me breathing hard, and basically delirious as my body tightened and pulsed upward. He bit his lip as he watched me squirm, and when I was finished he planted a kiss on the inside of my thigh.

“Would it be okay if I make love to you now?” he asked, smiling.

“Oh fuck, yes,” I replied, letting out another huge breath. “But maybe wipe off your mouth first?”

He twisted around to the mirrored closet door past the foot of my bed, and got the message, wiping himself clean with one of the towels before he crawled over on top of me, plunging his throbbing cock into my hot, pleading pussy as he kissed me hard.

I’d never felt so wet in my life, and it seemed that all my senses had heightened. I was sensitive, but he knew precisely how to touch me. My breasts were tender to the touch, but he was delicate with them, making me exhale with delight at every light caress of the fingertips, and his hard strokes seemed to make warm electricity run like a current through my body.

And there was a potency to him now as he pushed himself harder and deeper into me than ever before. There was an animalism to the deep grunts he made as he fucked me, and the sound of him drove me even more wild.

I met every one of his pulses by raising my body up against his, meeting each time with a blissful clap, any worry I'd had of making a mess squashed down by the primal need to satisfy our bodies. I opened my eyes and he was gazing at me intensely, with a new kind of ferocity, and we maintained eye contact as we made love, our souls meeting as one.

He went, and went, and went, until at long last, his pace quickened and finally, he groaned, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” and filled me with his seed with a few last powerful pumps. We laid there for a while, with him still inside me, catching our breaths, and admiring one another. When he eventually pulled his cock out of me, it wasn’t a pretty sight.

“I think it’s time we took a shower, eh love?” he teased as we both laid there, exhausted and giddy.

* * *

The hot water felt absolutely amazing against my skin as it washed us both clean, blood mingling with water as red drips were rinsed off our bodies. I stood just under the shower head, my arms outstretched and my hands on the shower wall, while Cassidy stood behind me, his arms draped around me as we let the torrent wash over both of us.

Then I leaned back into him, tracing the curling lines of one of his tattoos with an index finger.

“You ever gonna tell me the stories behind all these?” I asked him.

“Some day,” he mused. “But we’ve plenty of time for that.”

I turned around to face him, leaning against his chest. There really was something so sexy about his chest hair, and I wondered what the numbers beneath it—23456—might mean. I was starting to daydream about them when he kissed the top of my head.

“Do you mind if I try somethin’, Adelaide?” he asked me.

“And what would that be?” I wondered.

“I’d just like to finger you some more, is all.”

“Now why would you wanna do something like that?” I asked, genuinely curious, but willing.

“Well I, for one, feel like I’m just getting warmed up.” he said with a grin. “I wanna make you cum again, and since I’ll be gone a short while, I wanted to leave ya with a memory to remember me by. A new experience.”

I thought I was spent, but all it took was a few words to get me all aroused again.

“Yeah,” I said. “I like the sound of that.”

He got down on his knees in front of me, the water continuing to run over him, then carefully placed a long, strong middle finger up inside of me. He began to gently rub his finger against the wall facing him, like he was beckoning me to come to him, and I let out a hard gasp of pleasure.

“How’s that feel so far?” He asked me, his question more clinical than bedroomy.

“Fuck, it feels… really… oh god… good,” I got out between powerful strokes of his finger.

“Alright,” he whispered. “This may take a while, so be patient with me, alright?”

I nodded, feeling my muscles clench around his finger.

“God, I love watching you moan,” he purred, and I felt myself getting closer at the sound of his voice. “Can I press harder?”

“Yes!” I shouted. Then he did, and the sensation growing inside me grew even more intense.

“Do you like that?” he asked, and it was a rhetorical question because he could see that I did from the expression on my face. “Oh fuck, you love this, dontcha?”

“Oh god, don’t stop that, Cass,” I begged. I’d felt something like this inside of me before, like a plateau that peaked just below orgasm, the ecstatic pleasure drawn out but never reaching those soaring heights. My moans were growing steady and regular now. He had his rhythm down, not letting up for a second, careful not to change his pace or intensity lest he should make me lose mine.

And then something happened—I was tipping into new territory. I could feel it coming, not far away at all, rising and building slowly inside of me.

“Jesus, Proinsias, I’m almost fucking there. Just a little harder. Please?” I was nearly begging.

He had it in him to go that little bit harder, and then I felt like I was almost there—practically there—on the edge of an orgasm, I knew it was there. He'd been paying attention, and he knew it.

"Cum for me," Cassidy growled, low and sensuous, and it was exactly what I needed to put me over the edge. He kept working his finger, keeping the rhythm, not changing a single thing, until I was there.

“Oh fuck, oh God, oh Cass,” I shouted as it finally welled up inside of me, and I came loud, and hard, and I felt every muscle inside of me strengthen around his incredible, magical finger as my legs grew weak and spasmed beneath me. The sensation was familiar, yet completely new, radiating from my center and making me shake and cry out.

He didn’t dare remove his finger until I was completely done moaning and shuddering around him, and when he did, he gave me a cheeky kiss just above my clit.

“You did it,” he said with a smile, looking up at me like I’d just accomplished something admirable as the shower droplets ran down his skin. “You couldn’t, and now you’ve gone and done it.”

“We did it,” I corrected him, still panting. “You did all the work. I just stood here and had a great time.”

He got back up on his feet, and looked down at me sweetly.

“Here’s to the next great time,” he said, and pressed his lips against mine, his hands around my face. The kiss was long and lovely, and I couldn't believe how lucky I was. 

“We couldn’t, maybe, have one more time before you have to go?” I suggested.

He grinned a huge grin. Then he got rock hard again, and then we did have another great time as the steam collected on the walls around us.


	15. Seeing God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing will ever be the same after God shows up in Annville.

I knew I was being ungrateful, but the last few days without any word from Cassidy had felt like torture. 

As much as I understood that contacting him was absolutely the last thing I should do—for his safety and for mine—at least half of my waking hours were spent daydreaming about heading up to the Toadvine to see him, just for a moment. I'd even dreamed about it twice. But I couldn't do that. In one fell swoop, I'd blow his cover and implicate myself, and then I don't know what we would do. 

Still, I hated being in the dark. I didn't even know for sure if Cass and Jesse were okay, let alone alive. I'd had an uneasy rumbling in my gut for a couple of days now, and I prayed it didn't mean something horrible was on the horizon. 

All I did know was that we'd be attempting to call God during church on Sunday, and if all went to plan, he might even show his face. Normally, that would have been a big deal, but all I could think about was that Cassidy had sworn he'd be there, so Sunday meant I'd be able to see his sweet face again.

And with Tulip off on an adventure of her own, I was left feeling quite alone. That is, until out of nowhere, Emily gave me a call. I was all too eager to invite her over for lunch to catch up.

She wanted to see how I was doing and update me on a couple of things, including how the hunt for Jesse and Cassidy was going. They were the prime suspects in the disappearance of the mayor, and depending on how things went, Odin Quincannon would probably legally own Jesse’s church when all was said and done. 

It was a lot to take it, but I trusted that the boys knew what they were doing, and it didn't seem like they were in any imminent danger. After all, Emily reminded me, the news would be all over town if the two had been apprehended.

I don't know if it was the news, or just getting the chance to talk things out with a friend, but I was overcome with a powerful sense of relief. It helped that she was so chipper, the positivity shining right off of her.

“You seem good,” I told her between bites of a sandwich, “given the circumstances.”

She was smiling from ear to ear. In fact, she seemed radiant.

“Yeah, well, I am good,” she said. “I haven’t felt this way in a long while. Just, y'know, doin' my own thing.”

She was practically giddy, like a teenager in love, and it was nice to see her so happy. A weight I couldn't ever fully comprehend had been lifted off her shoulders.

“How are you doing, by the way?” she asked. “Hope you don’t mind me saying, but you do look a little bit down.”

“I miss Cass, is all,” I said. “It’s just tough not knowing what's going on.”

“How was he, before he left?” she asked, the concern in her voice clear. “How’s his…” and then she motioned around her face in a circular motion with one finger. 

“Oh, he’s good as new.” I assured her. “Better even. Thanks for asking.”

“And Tulip is still…”

“Off in Albuquerque?" I finished. "As far as I know. She hasn’t been picking up my calls.”

“Well, when you see her, can you let her know I’m over Jesse?” Emily asked. “I’d hate for there to be bad blood between us, and I think I’m just ready for something new.”

“I’ll let her know,” I promised.

We ate in silence for a moment before I had to ask.

“So how you feel about all this God business?”

“Well, I’m not gonna get my hopes up too much,” she said. “Even if… Even if he does come, I don’t know exactly what that'll mean for us.”

She smiled again, a quiet, hopeful smile.

“Best case scenario, pie in the sky, what would you want to happen?” I asked her.

“Not sure,” she said. “Maybe, I dunno, I’d like to get a little peek into heaven. See my husband again.”

I’d never heard her talk about him before, but her voice was so warm and fond. It was clear she missed him with her whole heart.

“If you don't mind my asking, what was he like?"

“Oh,” she sighed, “he was tall, kind of skinny. Quiet. Tended to keep to himself. He was an honest guy. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t pretend he did.”

“I bet he liked you.”

“Yeah,” she grinned with a blush, like she was talking about a crush. “He was real shy. I had to make the first move. But after that, you couldn’t tear us apart. He was real sweet and thoughtful, where it counted. He worked hard. I miss him every day.”

Her eyes were getting wet, but not a single teardrop fell, and all the while she never stopped smiling.

For a second, I thought _I _might cry, but I was able to hold it back.

“I really hope you and your kids get to see him on Sunday,” I said.

“Ada,” she said, wistfully. “I couldn’t explain it to you, but I’ve got this crazy feeling that we will.”

* * *

When I arrived at the church on Sunday just before the main event, the place was already jam-packed with people. I found the situation a little overwhelming, but I was comforted when I spotted Tulip alongside the right wall of the church. I dashed over there, and she greeted me with a welcoming hug.

“So did everything work out in Albuquerque?” I asked.

“Yep,” she beamed. “Everything’s great.”

I was about to get into the details with her when a strong pair of arms wrapped around the front of me and twirled me around. There was my Cassidy, as handsome as ever in a denim jacket and baseball cap, and before I could even voice my surprise he met me with a long, generous kiss on the lips. His breath was hot and tasted of metal, and I treasured every second of our embrace.

“God, I missed you,” he said, gazing deep into my eyes, his arms draped around me.

“Let's never do that again, okay?” I asked, holding my head close to his chest, and he vowed not to let it happen again.

After that, Tulip and Cass hugged, too, and I felt like I was in the center of a happy little family reunion.

“You okay?" Tulip asked him. "Jesse said the cops got you."

I gave him a surprised look, and he shook his head.

“Oh that,” he said. “Yeah, no. They just let me off with a warning.” He turned to smile at me. “Nothin’ to worry about.”

“They even let you keep the hat,” I mused, noticing the Annville Sheriff Department logo embroidered across his cap.

“Yeah. I made friends with the sheriff.” He winked playfully. I smiled, and I leaned back against him as he held me, awaiting the big show.

As the countdown to God continued, the crowd grew more and more restless. A murmur spread through the couple hundred or so people within the church, and I understood why. We’d all been promised a vision of God, and given everything I’d seen and heard in my last month in this godforsaken town, I believed we'd be getting it.

When Jesse opened the back door and stepped into the chapel, everyone immediately piped down. Once he approached the pulpit, he couldn't utter more than four words before Odin Quincannon marched to the front of the church to interrupt him.

Quincannon was utterly convinced that nothing was going to happen, and he was willing to bet his reputation on it. As he spoke, many of the churchgoers started to nod and call out in agreement with him. Jesse was beginning to lose the crowd, but then Quincannon said something absurd about the God of Meat being the one true God, and then everyone was immediately back on Jess's side. I loathed Quincannon, and I hoped with all my heart that God would show, just to prove him wrong. After what seemed like forever, he sat back down and left Jesse to it.

It was then that he took the angels’ phone box and placed it up on the podium, opening its moving parts delicately while the audience craned their necks for a better look. Some spectators groaned in horror as he pulled a pale, severed hand out of a plastic bag and held it carefully over the mechanical contraption, and behind me Cass explained to whomever would listen that it was an angel's hand.

Then the machine clicked and whirred, like an old reel-to-reel, before going silent. Jesse tinkered with it, pressing more buttons, and causing it to honk again and again as in error. The crowd was growing skeptical now, shouting suggestions and shaking their heads at him. No one could be quite sure what would happen next, and then the box made a sound like a disc ejecting from a broken CD player before Odin Quincannon got back up at the front of the room to relish in Jesse’s failure.

But just as he did, the place went completely dark, illuminated only by the flickering candles behind the pulpit, and the audience shrieked. Jesse reassured everyone as we all peered forward through the darkness, and then a burst of blinding yellow light and a mighty gust of wind blew from the front of the chapel. The audience recoiled, raising their hands to protect themselves.

I clenched my eyes shut and turned my head back toward Cass, who removed the oversized aviator sunglasses he had dangling from his shirt and carefully placed them over the bridge of my nose before he held me even closer.

And then, unmistakably, God appeared there before us. Well—a projection of God, sat in a white throne against a heavenly golden backdrop. There was certainly something ethereal and otherworldly about how he appeared to us, bathed in that vibrant glow, but I marveled at how human the man with the white hair and long beard seemed, despite everything.

He spoke with clarity and gravitas, and the parishioners sat there in awe of him as they basked in his light. I felt like I should be feeling _more_, but perhaps my years of disbelief made me immune to his holiness.

God's first order of business was to ask why he’d been summoned, and Jesse explained that we all had some questions for him. That hadn't been what he wanted to hear, and it seemed he was about to get real wrathful before Tulip stopped him dead in his tracks by telling him _we _were the ones who should have been pissed, and that took him down a peg. I didn't expect anything less from my friend. Jesse followed suit, demanding he act like the loving God he was supposed himself to be.

That certainly got God’s attention. He let out a long, hearty guffaw, and thunderclaps rang out as he applauded. He relented, and permitted the crowd’s questions, and then the church exploded into a frenzy of interruptions and shouting. Nothing was really learned. Nothing really gained. When he announced that we were all saved, the crowd erupted into frenzied cheers, raising they hands heavenward.

And then reality came down crashing real quick. Things weren't adding up. God hadn’t known about Jesse’s power, or what had happened to the ass-faced kid Eugene—and I'd be damned if I hadn’t seem him picking his nose. Jesse had to use his power to get a confession out of him, and when he did, it became clear that this wasn’t God at all. He was an imposter, and Jesse wasn’t afraid to let every soul in that church know it. God existed, all right, but he’d left heaven, and not even the angels knew where he was. His revelation was cut short when men in white suits dragged him away, and the connection was broken, and the room went black yet again before the sunlight returned.

The crowd was stunned into silence, waiting for Jesse to tell them all where to go from here. Instead, he motioned to Tulip, Cass and me to get out of there.

We walked out together as I tried to process what we'd just seen. What I did know was that not believing in a God and knowing there was one, but that he'd badly been neglecting his duties, were basically the same thing. It'd certainly been an experience, but it didn't change a thing.

However, it quickly became clear that, for a hell of a lot of people in that church, the confirmation that God was missing meant their lives were never going to be the same. As we walked away, Quincannon shouted at Jesse, pleading him to denounce God, and it only took a moment for the rest of church to descend into chaos, sobbing and fighting and smashing things. The four of us didn’t care—and Tulip had a hankering for french fries.

I was nearly out the door when I felt a tug at my sleeve. I turned around and was surprised to see it was Momma. I hadn’t seen her since I’d first come back to Texas a month ago, and it felt like a lifetime had passed since then. I suppose I should have expected her. Of course she’d be here today for her chance to convene with God. I asked Cass to tell the group to wait up for me while I spoke to her, and shooed him away. The last thing he needed in his life right now was my overbearing mother.

She was fervently religious, and I assumed she'd be devastated to learn about God’s disappearance from heaven. Instead, a strange smile had crept across her squat face.

“Hey, Momma,” I said. The last thing I wanted to do now was to speak with her, but I wasn’t sure what she was going through, so I attempted to be empathetic. How are you holding up?”

“I’m wonderful,” she said, and her smile bared all her teeth in a manner that immediately unnerved me. I’d never seen her like this. “But call me Mae. It's time I let you know I ain't your momma.”

That certainly hadn’t been what I’d been expecting to hear.

“Yes, you are…”

“No, I ain't, girl,” she insisted. “I thought you’d have figured it by now. You've always been too curious for your own good. Asking questions, puzzling things together. Doesn't help that your daddy didn't do what he agreed and get rid of those keepsakes from his sun-hating whore.”

“What in the world are you saying?”

“I did my duty as a pious member of the church and did my part to burn that sinner alive,” she continued, her words fast and impassioned. “And I kept up that duty when I married your pa. Giving his little girl a good Christian mother to raise her, stop her getting too inquisitive. It's a lucky thing you came out full human, too. We left you out in the daylight for an hour, just to be sure, and you passed our little test with nothin' more than a bit of sunburn and heatstroke. I even grew to care about him over the years. But you had to go on pryin’, and he told you too much. We couldn't let him do that.”

She was getting upset now, gritting her teeth as she screeched the words.

“That was _your_ damn fault,” she hissed. But then she laughed, and her expression grew eerily neutral again in the span of a second. “But now, if I'm not doing this for God, who in the world am I doing it for? No one. So goodbye, Ada. I guess I'm sorry I couldn't stop you from being like your real folks. I wish you well in your life of wickedness.”

With that, she promptly trotted out the door, appearing quite pleased with herself. I could only stand there, flabbergasted. It was simply too much information to process all at once—and I was still trying to wrap my head around the God situation. If anything, I was simply glad to be rid of her, and as my thoughts ran wild, I joined my friends outside.

“What was that all about?” Cass asked as I got into the back of Tulip’s car with him.

“_Long_ story. I’ll have to fill you in you later,” I breathed out a deep sigh, and we were off to my neck of the woods for some deep fried diner food.

* * *

At the Five Aces diner, Cass and I sat on one side of a booth, Tulip and Jesse sat on the other, and we ordered food and shot the shit. For whatever reason, Cass had become really agitated about his hatred for _The Big Lebowski_, leaving me in a fit of giggles while Jesse and Tulip listened on incredulously. I kind of thought Cass had a point, even if I liked the film as much as everyone else in the room.

Then the topic came to what we were going to do next. If God was missing, Jess was dead set on finding him, whatever that took. Maybe this was going to be a rescue mission. Maybe God was in for a world of hurt. Either way, we’d be on the road, with some guns, booze and sex mixed in for good measure. A month ago, there would have been no way, but a lot had gone down, and I was a different person now.

“So, like a road trip?” Cass asked. When Jesse nodded, Cass looked over to me. “I'm not going anywhere unless you'd be willing to join us.”

I simply couldn’t say no to those eyes and that smile. Tulip was also giving me an expectant look, and even Jesse Custer seemed on board with me joining in.

“What the hell. Let’s do this,” I said, and Cass wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pulled me closer to him and gave me a soft kiss on the temple.

As we left the diner, Cassidy propped open an elegant black umbrella, holding me under it with him, as we walked to Tulip’s car. She followed closely behind as Jesse paid the tab.

I thought about what Momma—no, Mae—had told me, about my real mother. Could it really be true that I was the daughter of a vampire? It all sounded so preposterous, but maybe I’d felt it was the truth all along. Perhaps something deeper had called me back here, to Cassidy, because something in us was the same. What we shared was more than mere attraction. I remembered the first passionate dream I’d had about him, and how it ended with us both crumbled into ashes in the sunlight.

I knew I should tell Cass, but now, off the thrill of what was to come, I decided it best to hold my tongue.

As Cass and I both scooted into the back seat, Tulip leaned against the car, waiting for Jesse. We both watched as she followed him around the back. They spoke for a moment before she moved in, throwing an arm around his neck as she gave him a passionate kiss. When it broke off, she looked at him, and then gave him a rough punch square to the face.

Neither of them said a word as they got in the car, and as we drove off, ready for our big adventure, not one of us had a clue that Annville and its residents had been wiped off the map, and we’d never be seeing them ever again.


	16. "At This Moment, You Mean Everything"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road trip to find God gets off to a rocky start.

"So what you're tellin' me is you're some kinda daywalker, then?" Cassidy asked. He was looking up at me from his place resting across the back seat Tulip’s car. His knees were bent and his head was in my lap as I played with his hair. Tulip’s car was speeding wildly across a West Texas freeway, and Cass’s tone was dead serious.

I looked down at him with a baffled look, and he was quick to clarify.

"Y'know. Like Wesley Snipes."

"Ohhh," I said as his meaning dawned on me. "Like, all of their strengths, none of their weaknesses? I wish. As far as I know, I'm 100% human. Would have been nice to inherit some of those vampire powers, though."

Following many minutes of strained silence after we'd taken off from the diner, punctuated only by the sweet, soft rumble of the car's engine, I had to break the quiet. I couldn’t resist blabbing to Cassidy, and there was nothing I was more eager to divulge than what I’d just discovered about my true parentage. I didn't know what it might mean for me to have a vampire for a biological mom, but if it was significant, I wanted to get to the bottom of it—and if anyone would know anything, it’d be Cass.

"Well that's a shame," Cass joked, "Ya'd think maybe the birthin' thing would be important..." It looked like he was going to say something, but thought better of it. "But no matter. I love ya just the same."

He lifted himself just enough to give me a tender kiss on the lips. I still didn't feel used to this magical thing, and my brain tingled pleasantly behind my eyes.

"You're okay, otherwise?" he asked, placing a steady hand on my arm, concern flooding his face. "Sorry I've only been crackin' jokes and makin' film references. It's me funny way of dealin' with trauma and the like."

It _was_ a lot to take in. Not two hours ago I'd discovered that I'd lost both my birth parents to violent religious zealots, the plot executed by the surrogate mother who had, somewhat begrudgingly, raised me as her own.

I understood that, but it was far too much to process. At least for now. When the reality sank in, maybe I'd need to spend a week having a good cry. But right now, it felt like a bad dream whose details I couldn’t recall moments after waking. Today, it was behind me in Annville, that hellhole of a hometown. Maybe I'd confront it once I came back. If only I'd known.

"Don't be sorry. I think I'm okay," I assured him, nodding as I thought. "Considering everything."

"Well I'm glad," he said with a gentle smile. "And if you ever start cravin' blood or survivin' a mortal wound or readin' minds, let me know."

I began to chuckle, but stopped abruptly as I thought that last bit over.

"Reading minds?" I asked. "That a vampire thing?"

"Or so I've been told," he tried to shrug from his position on his back. "Not that I've ever managed it."

"I think you have, more than you know," I encouraged him as I continued to run my fingers along his scalp.

"How d'ya mean?" he asked, sitting back up beside me. At the same time, he grabbed the brim of his Annville Police Department cap, which I'd borrowed, before stealing it back and placing it atop his head.

"Well, you usually have a pretty good idea of what I'm thinking without me saying it," I said. "Especially in... well, you know."

I felt embarrassed. I could say anything in front of Cass without fear of any judgment whatsoever, but even with my voice lowered and Tulip and Jess not paying attention to a word of what Cass and I were saying from the front, I shrunk away at the idea of being too explicit in front of them. Actually, it was Jesse that was the problem, though I tried not to dwell on that for too long.

"Ah," he nodded, making a loop with the thumb and index finger off his left hand, and penetrating it a couple times with the long tattooed index finger of his right.

I held back my giggles as he grinned an enormous smile that made me melt, my reflection laughing back at me in the rust-colored glass of his large aviators. We'd been in the road for more than half an hour now, and his company had made it just fly by.

Outside, the road was just gritty grey asphalt for miles, lined with tufts of yellow-green grass and identical rows of trees that made the location impossible to place. Still, there was a beauty in moving through it with him.

"That's not bein' a mind-reader, love," he insisted, smiling at me. "That's just communication. Intuition, maybe." I thought he was being modest. "And you're not so bad at that yourself," he added with a smirk, raising an eyebrow.

"Well they do say that Pisces is the most psychic sign," I quipped.

He thought for a moment, like he was searching his brain for something.

"Your birthday's in March, yeah?"

"Mhmm," I confirmed, delighted he'd remembered. "And you're a Sagittarius."

"That's right," he nodded. That was impossible for me to forget. He was charming and adventurous and always spoke his mind, and there wasn't a new experience he'd ever shy away from.

"Let me guess," I continued. "December?"

"Now how did you know that?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"I'm psychic, remember?" I teased. I'd had a feeling, given his personality, but the odds were also heavily on my side. I could just feel it, and my intuition had led me in the right direction on numerous occasions in the past.

"Look, I believe it," Cassidy said. "Psychics, vampires, Tom Cruise explodin'. I shit you not, there's some crazy shite goin' on in the world. Listen to this," he stretched before leaning into the front seats to get Jesse and Tulip involved, because they'd mostly been ignoring us up until now. "70 million circumcisions every year—that they report! And that's just in this country. Think about that."

I did think about it. With the U.S. population at a little over 370 million, I quickly realized that figure made no sense in the slightest unless folks with regenerating foreskins were going in for annual touch-ups. Still, I didn't say a word. I had to know where he was going with this.

"You know what, Cassidy?" Tulip shot back. "I don't want to."

When Cass started going on about the foreskins being piled up in warehouses by big business, I couldn't help but grin like an idiot. He'd spent far too much time on conspiracy channels on YouTube, but I had to admire his impassioned arguments. And his hypotheses they were being used for skin grafts and pulverizing them to add extra collagen to ladies' face creams nearly made sense, too.

The conversation was clearly too much for Tulip, who changed the subject to our destination. Apparently, an old friend of Jesse's father's knew everything there was to know about God and his dealings. Jesse insisted that if anyone might have some insights into this situation, it would be him, and so the first stop on our little road trip would be paying him a visit.

That issue seemed to bore Cass, and he interjected again about the foreskins, to the dismay of our friends in the front seats.

"Y'know, I don't think I'd mind if there was foreskin in my lotion, as long as it made my skin glow,” I mentioned. It was the truth, but I also knew it would get a rise out of everyone.

Cass snorted, and I saw Tulip make a disgusted face in the rear view mirror. I think she'd had enough of the topic because that's when she flipped on the radio. A weather report came on as Cass patted his jean jacket, reached into a front pocket and pulled out an ancient, dried-out joint. His eyes grew wide, but he did nothing.

"You really want to smoke that, don't you?" I teased him.

He feigned disinterest, scrunching his lips up under his nose.

"Nah," he shook his head dramatically, looking slightly away, like people always do when they're fibbing.

"You can have a little weed, Cass," I said.

"Thank God for you Ada," he said, and gave me another soft peck before he lit up. He took a first dusty inhale, had one dry cough and then sighed contentedly.

I still didn’t know how to handle the fact that he’d stopped using drugs for my sake. It’d only been a few weeks, and I was grateful for it, but I also knew Cass had an impulsive side, and that I couldn’t depend on it to last. But pot? I'd been the biggest square in all of L.A., and even I'd taken a couple puffs in college. I actually inhaled it like a pro, too, before having a nightmarish freakout which no one cared enough to help me through. I believed Cass should be allowed to indulge from time to time, and he seemed appreciative. Plus, Tulip didn’t seem to care about smoking in her car in the slightest.

As a stale, skunky odor filled our back seats, the first strains of "Come On Eileen" by Dexy's Midnight Runners came on the radio, and I watched in amusement as the three of my travel companions shifted uneasily in their seats and averted their gaze.

"This is such a bad song," Tulip declared shaking her head as she twisted a lock of her hair around her finger. Her hand didn't return to the dial to change it.

"Shite," Cassidy agreed, nodding too emphatically, and there was something in his voice that betrayed his true feelings. In front of us, Jesse started drumming his fingers against the top of the bench seat and Tulip began bobbing her head. Then we were all moving to the music. Cass was the first to sing along—just a single line, but it was enough.

A split-second later, a police car passed us on the left. Instantly, the driver activated his wailing siren. We all turned to watch him make a screeching U-turn behind us. Tulip rapidly decelerated, but seeing as we'd been pushing 100, it was no use. We were in his sights, and suddenly I regretted encouraging Cass to light up.

As the siren blared again behind us and the music kept going, my nerves tightened. Tulip _was _going to pull over, right? Suddenly I felt like I was in over my head. I panicked when it came to breaking the rules. My heart pounded in my temples, and Cass looked at me guiltily with the joint in his hand.

"You're not about to do what I think you are," I said to Tulip, trying not to sound scared shitless. I was far less afraid of seeming uncool in front of my friends as I was of getting getting caught up in a high speed chase.

"It’s cool," Tulip reassured us. "I just pull over and do my Afghan war vet thing."

"Yeah. You could do that," Jesse goaded her, clearly implying the opposite, and my posture tightened. What had I gotten myself into?

But then Cass took me by the hand and squeezed it tight. It was the exact reminder I needed that whatever happened, I wouldn't be alone in this.

"You gonna be alright, love?" he asked in a whisper, with care furrowing his brow.

I wasn't sure why, but this time, being asked if I was okay nearly brought me to tears. I held them back and tried to focus on how glad I was to have him by my side. I took a deep breath before I answered.

"Yeah," I nodded. "It's just, blatantly breaking the law all the time is gonna take some getting used to."

As if on cue, Tulip rapidly accelerated in an attempt to outgun the officer. Cassidy looked forward to Tulip, and then back to me. It was clear asking her to slow down was futile, and anyway, it would be too little, too late.

"Listen," he said, taking back his hand and wrapping an arm around me while he held the joint as far away from me as possible with the other hand. "If anything happens, we'll look after ya, alright? If we get caught—look, you didn't have anything to do with this. You've not got your foot on the pedal, and you're not the one smokin' neither. I'll tell 'em ya were taken against your will."

The serious expression on his face cracked into a smile, and I had to grin, too.

"Thanks, Cass," I said. Despite everything, that made me feel safe. Whatever happened, I knew Cass would have my back—andhe did have a certain knack for getting himself out of trouble. In fact, they all did.

As we raced away, all four of us were singing along to the track. I quickly realized I didn't know the lyrics half as well as I thought I did, but at least I wasn't struggling with them as badly as Jesse.

Soon, the car chasing us was joined by another from up ahead. The second vehicle made a sharp turn toward us from the left, driving directly head on into us in an attempt to cut us off. Before it could, Tulip expertly weaved out of the way—directly into oncoming traffic. Of course, she also managed to swerve around the approaching truck, driving briefly along the dirt shoulder, before she made her way back onto the paved road. This time, twin sirens screeched as the police cars chasing us sent big, blinding clouds of dirt into the air. My fear had been replaced by the excitement of pure adrenaline, and I almost understood why people did this sort of thing. Somehow, the song was emboldening us even further as Cass air-drummed with a flourish.

But I recoiled when I saw that ahead of us. Most of the road was closed for construction, and men in reflective orange vests and hardhats worked excavators, moving piles of earth and blocking the way. The workers were waving the approaching side through, which meant we had nowhere to go.

As we got close, I squeezed my eyes closed and held on tight to Cass—why the hell didn't this car have seatbelts?—and braced for the worst. But instead of slamming into something, the car must have ramped off of one of the mounds, sliding along on two wheels. Cass and I had to cling to each other and the car not to completely topple over in the backseat, but we managed, and Tulip somehow navigated through the commotion without a single scratch as the car returned to all four wheels on the other side.

The pursuing police weren't so lucky, turned around and trapped at the bottleneck.

"Good song," Cassidy commented as the last lines rang out, and after what we'd all made it through, not one of us could disagree. But then we started slowing down, which clearly wasn’t Tulip’s doing. The usually smooth engine sputtered, and then we slowed to a halt.

Tulip had mentioned earlier that we were low on gas, but I didn't know it would be so soon. The panic started setting back in, and Cass took my hand again and intertwined his fingers with mine. He said nothing, but looked me in the eyes and nodded. I felt strangely reassured. I turned to look at the pursuers who'd caught up with us, and hadn't even noticed that a third cop car had entered the fray at some point. _Shit_.

As they got out of their cars, I counted nine Texas State Police troopers in total in their ugly matching tan uniforms and wondered how the hell we were going to get ourselves out of this one.

As a few officers approached, Cass stared at the joint in his hand and peered around the back seat for somewhere to safely stash it. When no opportunities presented themselves, he shrugged and continued to smoke it. I envied his confidence as Tulip and Jesse flirted. These were consummate professionals. Perhaps their big mistake had been inviting me along for the ride.

Now, they flanked the car, and one man threw open Jesse's door, grabbed him with two giant meaty hands and pulled him outside, slamming him to the hood of the car. Another officer wasn't much more delicate with Tulip.

Cass shot me a sharp look. We didn't want that happening to us.

"Scuse me, love," Cass said, releasing my hand to reach for the folded black umbrella resting near his feet. As he exited out the driver's side rear door, he propped the umbrella open with aplomb, making sure to shield himself under its protective shade as I scooted down the bench after him.

Once we were out, Cass was the cop's next focus. He couldn't have looked more suspicious, with his joint in one hand and an umbrella in the other, and the man in charge didn't like any of it. I kept some distance, hands raised and highly visible. I didn't want to stir these men up any more than they already were.

The commanding officer insisted that Cass drop both his cover and the weed, and while he couldn't ditch the umbrella, he was happy to flick the little spliff away down the road.

"Mhmm," he attempted to be agreeable. "But I need the umbrella, otherwise I burst into flames, see."

The man was not amenable to that explanation at all, so I found it pertinent to step in.

I took one step careful forward, arms still raised, and interjected.

"He has a rare sun allergy," I explained, trying to sound as convincing as I could. "It can be deadly, actually, if we're not careful."

"Is that so." The officer's words were more a statement than a question. He wasn't buying it, so I doubled down.

"It is. It's called solar urticaria." I was glad I'd looked it up. "And that was medical marijuana for his condition, by the way."

Cass nodded slightly as if to say "well done," and I held back another huge smile while I was still being interrogated.

That must have been enough to satisfy at least a couple of the officers, because even as one pried the umbrella from Cassidy's hands, he held it carefully above him to keep Cass under the sanctuary of the shade. The policeman who cuffed him was particularly gentle, and I appreciated that Cass was in good hands, for the time being.

The man in charge didn't seem to give a shit. He called his officers idiots, then called us idiots, and quickly approached, clearly intending to take Cassidy's umbrella regardless.

"I'd advise against that..." I shouted again.

"And I'd advise you to shut your damn mouth," he snapped back, taking a last step toward Cassidy and yanking the umbrella away from him.

A sick feeling washed over me and my heart pounded in my chest as Cass's skin instantly began to smoke. He shouted in pain as he sought cover, leaping directly into the back seat of a nearby police SUV. Even out of harm's way, it was clear to me that he was still in pain. He couldn't even reach out to close the door behind him without risking further burns.

"Cass?" I called out, standing on my tiptoes in an attempt to see him from my current position. My chest was tight and I needed to hear him.

"I'm alright!" he shouted out to me through anguished grunts. I was able to breathe again.

"Guess he’s telling the truth about needing that umbrella, huh," one officer commented.

"Shut it, all o' you," the main officer gruffly shouted at us, placing his hand over the handgun in a holster at his hip, and as much as I wanted to keep shouting for Cass, I didn't dare.

Unfortunately, Cassidy's state only made the man more curious. He wanted a few words with him—out here in the sunlight—and suddenly I wondered how Cass could be so casual about any daytime lawbreaking when the slightest hiccup could put his life on the line.

As the cop walked up to the SUV, I had no doubts he intended to physically drag Cass out of the back seat. Lucky for all of us, Jesse finally decided to intervene.

"**_Stop_**," he commanded, and the force of his power meant that every word had to be obeyed. The man backed away and I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

And that was far from the last of his demands. Under his order, they put their weapons away and gathered in the center of the road. Jess asked one to refuel Tulip's car, and another to shoot pepper spray down the front of his pants.

I'd already seen what the power of Genesis could do—and what a mighty power that had been, sending that boy to hell, and forcing a false God to confess—but there was something about it being used so flippantly that really drove its ability home. He was being recklessly childish, and with Cass in trouble, I didn't like this one bit.

I don't think Tulip did either. She seemed to be watching him carefully as Jesse chuckled to himself, trying to figure out his next move. With the police preoccupied, I made my way over to Cass's hiding place. He grinned when he saw me, and though he was still wincing and breathing heavily, he seemed okay.

Jesse's orders continued to ring out across the freeway. He could have had them let us all go and forget that all if this had ever happened. Instead, as the maced man grunted and dripped with pained sweat, Jesse made two men hold hands, and another begin to meekly sing an old Texas folk song.

"Bloody cool," Cass commented, listening outward.

"It's irresponsible, is what it is," I said, still peering in at him.

"A little of column A, a little of column B," he smirked.

He nearly had me convinced. In fact, it seemed that Jesse had gotten everything under control and was ready to end the situation, taking a few long strides in our direction, when a cacophonous bang rang off, rattling the air around us. It seemed impossible to place until, in front of Jesse, an officer slumped to the ground, bright red blood bursting from his chest in a violent spray.

If anyone knew what had just transpired, it would be Jesse, but he appeared just as baffled as I felt. It didn't seem like any of the troopers had fired, and as the man bled out on the ground, we could only stare.

When Jesse began to stare fixedly down the road from the direction we came, I had to look, too.

"Do you see that?" I asked Cassidy, who had a clear view down the road from his space inside.

"Barely," he replied, squinting in an attempt to see.

It appeared that a solitary figure was approaching, but he was too far away to clearly see, let alone to shoot at us. At least, he should have been.

There was another earth-shaking boom, and I recoiled at the noise. This time, Jesse reacted instantly.

"Everybody down!" he called out. Instinctively, I slammed Cassidy's door shut and ran around the vehicle to the other side. At least that way I'd have some cover, and Cass wouldn't be such an easy target.

As officers clutched their hats, a couple fled, while a few armed troopers ran in the direction of the approaching gunman. One moment after raising his handgun, the man with the maced testicles had the top of his head blown away. I felt sick to my stomach and I had to turn my head from the horror.

I attempted to peek inside the window at Cassidy, but the heavy tinting on the windows made that impossible. Just as I reached for the handle, yet another deafening shot rang in my ears. This one felt close—and then I felt like I’d been hit by a bus. I couldn't make up from down as I flew across the road, lights spinning in my eyes, my chest bursting with hot, sharp throbbing pain, and then something even worse wracked my body when it slammed down against the gravely pavement.

As the world sloshed around like a rolling riptide about me, the best I could do to get my bearings was to listen. I heard Cass’s voice frantically calling out to me again and again over the singing officer, mumbling, “but the yellow rose of Texas is the only girl for me" over the gunfire. I heard Jesse’s voice say just two words**_: "Leave her."_ **And then it all slipped away to black.


	17. A Little Hiccup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a freak incident, Ada must find her way back to Cassidy

When I awoke hours later, choking for breath, the low sunset cast an orangey pink haze around me while each inch of my body screamed with pain. I felt nearly crushed under the weight of something very heavy. My chest was on fire, and my nerves burned, but to my relief, I found I could move. I managed to push the object off of myself, inch by weighty inch, and winced sharply as I sat up off the pavement.

I touched my bruised ribs delicately with my fingertips. Nothing seemed to be broken, and as I got to my feet, a tiny bit of the pain subsided.

I struggled for a moment to remember how I'd gotten here, and as the dozens of bloodied bodies scattered about the scene came into clear view, I slowly remembered the day's events.

"Shit," I said under my breath, stumbling as fast as I could, despite the aches and pains, to look for Cass and the others. Tulip's car wasn't here, and they certainly weren't among the dead. I breathed a labored sigh of relief before I thought of reaching for the phone in my pocket. No use. It was crushed to hell.

I needed to get out of here. There were so many bodies. So many blasted cars, full of bullet holes. What in the hell had happened here—and how had I been so lucky to make it out in one piece?

I looked back over at the bulky metal object that had pinned me down—one of the doors of the police SUV. It was pierced in the side with a gaping bullet hole. The round must have missed me by just a foot, but the impact still blew the door off its hinges, sending me with it. I felt queasy and tried not to think about what might have happened if I'd been standing anywhere else.

In the end, my curiosity got the best of me. I peered around, and about 10 feet from the SUV lay a tall state trooper with a sizable hole ripping right through his gut, spilling his insides onto the road. He'd caught the bullet that missed me. That knowledge sent another uneasy chill down my spine.

This place reeked of death. I needed to move past this. I needed to get a move on. It was time to try to get to Mike's, wherever that was. He'd know where Cass and the rest were headed next. And though I didn't have an address, I at least knew which direction I should be headed.

I started off practically shuffling as I found my footing again, but it seemed that the farther I got away from the wreckage, the more normal I could feel, both in body and mind.

Everything hurt, but I was propelled forward by the knowledge that with each step, I was getting closer to Cassidy. I worried about him. It made me sick that he didn't know I was okay. I wished I could beam him my thoughts, just a flash that would assure him, wherever he was—and I tried to, even though I knew it was futile. 

Suddenly, I remembered Jesse's last words before I'd gone unconscious. I felt a flash of anger, followed by reticent understanding. As much as I hated to admit it, his decision had saved us all. If Cass had stuck around and tried to rescue me... I shuddered at the thought of what might have happened to us. Instead, I had to think to the future. I had to get to a telephone. I had to hear Cassidy's sweet voice.

The road was growing cold and dreary, forcing me to clutch my arms and huddle against myself as I walked, and out here on these long stretches of highway, there wasn't much in the way of light. I knew there'd have to be a gas station or something somewhere _eventually_ and that they'd have a phone. I told myself, again and again like a mantra, that this would just be a little hiccup, and by tomorrow I'd be reunited with Cassidy and we'd be heading back out like nothing ever happened.

With a crushed phone and my head still spinning, I had little sense of the passage of time. For maybe an hour, car after car passed me as I walked. I'd wave my hands and shout at them in an attempt to flag them down, but each one actually sped up as it passed. And I got it. After skirting through the wreckage I'd just came from, they were understandably spooked. I couldn't call them selfish for valuing their lives and not taking the risk of picking up a weird hitchhiker marching out of a field of corpses.

At the same time, I considered the possibility of surviving that wild shootout only to be murdered by some creep driver in the middle of nowhere. I pushed the thought away. This was urgent, and I felt more defeated and desperate every time I was ignored.

Finally, as I waggled an extended thumb at a battered hatchback, it slowed to approach me. Before the car had stopped, I could see its driver—dimly illuminated by lights from the car stereo—and was relieved to spot a young woman in the front seat. She held down a button on the inside of her door and the passenger side window lowered.

"Hey, you okay out there?" she asked, looking up at me. She had long, wavy black hair and a friendly voice with a slight Mexican accent. Her words were warm, and even though she seemed slightly nervous, I knew if I got in the car, there was zero chance I'd end up in a ditch somewhere.

"I'm alive," I shrugged, my voice raspy from disuse as I stepped up to the car. "Thank you for stopping."

"You were in that shit back there?" she asked, looking slightly shaken.

I nodded wearily, and she gestured for me to get in. I did so, gladly, and thanked her too many times. The heater was on, warming my goosebumped skin, and even the stale and musty smell of the old interior felt homey and comforting.

"My name's Marisol," she said, smiling, despite looking a bit frazzled, as she pulled back onto the road.

"Ada," I offered, and she nodded.

"So where you headed?"

"That's a good question," I said, staring off into the dark distance. I was thankful this was a long stretch of road with nothing for miles around. The chances we were already headed the wrong way were slim to none. "Is there any chance I could use your phone? Mine broke back there."

"Of course!" she said with no hesitation, gesturing briefly to the device leaning out of a deep cupholder between the two front seats. "But I gotta warn you, there's no reception out here. Closer to town, maybe 15 minutes, you'll have a bar or two."

I thanked her profusely as a reached for it, realizing my hands were unsteady. Marisol helped me unlock it—the phone was a different model than what I was used to—and I stared at the little greyscale staircase at the top of the phone waiting for one step to turn white.

I was clearly tense, and Marisol took that as a sign to turn the radio to a station that played slow, laid-back oldies. She kept the volume low, and the quiet background noise was a much appreciated distraction.

"Who is it you're trying to get in touch with?" she asked as I fidgeted in my seat.

"My boyfriend," I explained, and just saying it, in spite of everything, made half a grin cross my face. "We got separated back there, and the sooner he can know I'm okay, the better."

I think she knew better than to ask any questions about what had happened. I wouldn't know where to start.

"How'd the two of you meet?" she asked instead.

"In church," I said. I realized how odd that was. I was about to follow that up with the fact that neither of us are religious—but that we'd seen some pretty convincing evidence of God and the afterlife—but thought better of it as the beads of the rosary dangling from her rear view mirror jangled with the movement of the car. "I've never met anyone like him," I replied simply. "He's helped me see just how unknown the world around me really is, ya know?"

"Sounds like a special guy," she nodded with a wistful smile.

"He really is," I blushed.

"Well, once you get him on the phone, I'll be sure to shut up," she said. "My phone's as good as yours. I love a good love story."

I thanked her yet again, then typed in Cassidy's number, double and triple and quadruple-checking to see it was typed in correctly, and held my finger above the green "call" button. Thank God I'd taken the time to memorize it. My heart raced as I kept my eyes fixed on a non-existent bar.

The longer I had to wait, the more slowly time seemed to pass. Holding the phone above my head to be "closer" to the signal seemed to do nothing, yet I tried it again and again. I knew I shouldn't keep staring, but the millisecond I had the slightest bit of signal was the millisecond Cassidy would hear from me. On the radio, the calming music was interrupted by a breaking news report, but I was too tuned into what I was doing to absorb a word of it.

Finally, one bar fell into place and I pushed the button. I don't think it even went through one full ring before he answered.

"Hello?" Cassidy's voice was tearful, urgent and unusually gruff, but the simple sound of it made my heart stir.

"Cass, it's me," I rushed. "It's Ada, and I'm okay."

"Oh Jaysis," he exclaimed, and then made sounds that through the phone were indecipherable as laughter or crying. He didn't speak for a moment, but the relief was palpable. "I really thought..." he trailed off, and then started sniffling. "I'm so sorry, Ada."

"Shhhh, don't be sorry," I tried to calm him.

"We left you," he said, coldly, but his ire wasn't directed at me. "And then I..." he stopped again.

"Shhh," I soothed him. "Whatever it is, I'm okay. We're okay."

He was silent again for a moment.

"I love you so much, Ada," he eventually said, choking back more tears. The words still hit me hard and made my breath catch.

"I love you, too, Cass," I said, and my heart beat rapidly within my sore chest.

"I just... I really thought you'd been shot," he said.

"I wasn't," I explained. "Just hit with a door."

"Are ya hurt?"

"It does hurt," I said. "But nothing's broken. I'll be okay."

"Thank God. Just please don't be long, yeah?" he pleaded. "How far away are ya?"

"Depends," I said. "What's the address?"

He didn't know, but eventually pieced it together for me by reading the house number off the porch and strolling out to the sign marking the small road. It seemed he didn't feel like asking anyone, but now wasn't the time to ask about that.

I shared the details with Marisol, and felt very lucky when she told me it was on her way. It would be a little under an hour before we'd get to Mike's, and I conveyed that to Cassidy.

"I can't wait to see you, Ada," he told me. "Could ya please stay on the line with me?"

"Of course, Cass," I said. "Tell me what's going on with you."

"I'm so sorry..." he repeated. This sounded heavy.

"What happened, Cass?" I asked. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

"I..." he started, but he struggled to find the words. He wasn't ready, and the silence that followed was deep and burning.

"You don't have to explain now," I assured him softly, with as much sweetness as I could. "We can talk when I get there."

I tried not to speculate and did what I could to stop my brain from inventing horrible things that could have happened in my absense. I thought it would be wise to change the subject.

"How's Mike's?"

He let out a deep sigh on the other line.

"I don't like it here," he said shortly. "Mike's keepin' a girl in a cage."

Ah, yes. The covered cage—a tried and true method utilized by my mother's congregation. It was designed to curb addiction and force penance. Fear of it was one of the reasons I grew up so well-behaved. Maybe that's why I still can't stand the thought of getting in trouble.

"I wouldn't like that either," I told him. "How about Tulip and Jesse?"

The mention of Jesse's name made Cass angry—I could feel it.

"I can't believe he made us leave you..." he tensed.

"Hey," I said gently, trying to smooth things out. "I know you don't like it, but it was the right choice. No one else survived that. What matters is that we all got out safe."

He considered that, but it was still hanging over him.

"I've barely spoken to Jess since then," he said. "Tulip was pretty cross, too. But as soon as they got the chance they were off in the bedroom and got to shaggin'... I didn't wanna hear it so I've been out here on the front porch since. The quiet wasn't great when I thought ya were... But now I know you're okay, it's alright. What in the hell happened back there?"

"I honestly don't know," I admitted. "I think the four of us are the only ones who made it out alive. Whoever was shooting... Well I don't know what they want, but they're after blood."

"I can't begin to say how glad I am that you're alive," he said. "I just wanna hear ya talk. Tell me a story."

"All right..." I began, not sure what to say. Then it came to me like a vision. "The year is 1994. The place, Downtown Los Angeles, in one of the city's tallest high rises. It's a normal day at the office as execs pile into the elevator on one of the top floors. Then the lights go out, and the elevator plummets a dozen stories... only to be caught by the emergency brakes. Little do they know, a bomber is asking for $3 million in exchange for their lives, and lucky for them, LAPD SWAT Jack Traven is on the case."

I can't say why, but the story I was spinning was actually the plot of the film _Speed_. Cass caught on immediately.

"This is a good one," he said earnestly, and I basked in listening to his quiet breath on the end of the line as I weaved a tale of Keanu Reeves' adventures by elevator, bus and subway.


	18. "Tell Me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a close call, Cassidy has some things he wants to get off his chest

When we arrived, it was past 10, and dead quiet outside, save the chirps of crickets. The dirt road leading up to the little house was rocky, and as we approached, Cass was sitting on the front porch in a T-shirt and pajama bottoms, phone still in hand. He got up, not even bothering to hang up, and ran over to my side of the car.

Before I could rush outside to greet him, he threw open my door, bending down to take my face in his trembling hands and plant a firm, sweet kiss in the center of my forehead.

"Thank God," he said to me, and then turned to look past me. "You!" he said next, still crouching, to the woman in the driver's seat. "Bless ya fer bringing my Ada back to me. How can I ever repay you?"

"No no no," she insisted, seeming almost flustered. "You can repay me by making sure you love each other, okay?"

"Listen, I insist," he said, pulling out a huge wad of cash. My eyes grew wide, and so did Marisol's. I thought he was going to hand her a giant pile of money, but instead he pulled a bit off the top, at least four 20-dollar bills, and reached a long arm in front of me to hand them up her. "Gas money. Please take it."

Marisol looked hesitant. She shot me an unsure glance, but I gave her a nod, and she politely took the money and quietly folded it and put it in a pocket.

We both thanked her many times again, and then I got out of the car, and she was off.

Wordlessly, Cass carefully took my hand and walked me back to the porch, where he motioned for me to sit down. I did, before he took a seat beside me.

In the illumination of the porch lights, I could see that his eyes were bloodshot. He managed to look beautiful and like hell all at once, appearing inches away from crying, and I had to wrap my arms around him to comfort him. His heart was beating so fast, and his breaths were shallow. It took him a few moments to return the embrace, and when he did, his shaky hands barely touched me, careful not to disturb the rough bruises hidden beneath my clothes.

"I... I need to tell ya some things," he eventually said, pulling back his arms, and wrapping them around his raised knees. "And yer not gonna like 'em, but I don't want to be lyin' to ya, Adelaide. I can't be keepin' secrets. Today made that so clear to me."

My entire body felt tight. My mind ran wild with what ifs. But this was important to him, so I would listen.

"Tell me, Cass," I encouraged, and my words sounded a lot surer than I felt.

"After what happened, I wasn't meself," he started. "None of us were talkin' to each other after at all, and I was hurt pretty bad—shrapnel all in here," he motioned to his gut," and I had to rip my hands out of me handcuffs. When we got to a gas station I was in rather bad shape and I thought, fuck it, and I killed a man, Ada. The attendant. To heal. It wasn't even bloodlust it was just... And there was a cat, but... In that moment, I didn't see any reason not to."

Tears dribbled down his face as he looked at me, studying me for a reaction. I wiped them away with the edge of my sleeve, and looked him straight in the eyes.

"Cass," I said, searching for my words. "I can't say that was right. But I know you feel guilty as hell right now. That's the good in you. Because if you were only worried about me—that I'd judge you, or hate you, or leave you because of it—it wouldn't have been so important for you to tell me. You could have lied. I'm not gonna say feeling bad makes it all right. But I don't feel any differently about you. I love you with all my heart, and I don't know if any power in this world could change that."

He sat there for a second, absorbing what I'd said.

"I don't deserve your love, Ada," he replied. "But Jaysis, am I glad fer it."

"You do, Proinsias," I insisted. "And more. And I'm not so righteous myself. I did help feed you the mayor, remember? He was as innocent as anyone."

"You did," he recalled. "He sure was annoyin, though, wasn't he?" He snorted, and I had to laugh along with him. His smile had returned, and it was wonderful to see. I moved in closer to kiss him, but he pulled back slightly.

"One more thing," he said, and then reconsidered, looking slightly desperate. "Well, one of a few more things."

He pulled something small out of his pocket—a hollow glass tube with a sphere with an opening on the end, and twisted it between his unsteady fingers.

"Have... you been smoking crack?" I asked, trying to sound more curious than disappointed. I don't know if I pulled it off.

"Mixed with some bath salts, yeah," he admitted, sounding just as displeased with himself, rubbing the back of his next in shame.

"Where did you even get that?" I asked. I attempted to keep my tone as neutral as I could.

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "I didn't _try _to bring them with, they just seemed to show up when I needed... wanted them. You have every right to be mad. Are ya mad?"

"Yeah, I'm mad," I said.

"You don't seem it."

That much was true. I've never been super in touch with that particular emotion. My anger always seemed to top off at annoyance.

"I don't know how to be mad at you, yet, Cass," I admitted. "But that doesn't mean I'm happy."

"I'm sorry, Ada," he said. "I can stop again. As long as I've got ya, it'll be easy."

I wondered if that was true. Addiction was never that that easy. But he was sincere, and that's what mattered to me in the moment.

"Thank you, Cass," I said. "I don't think I would have been able to tell, if you hadn't told me."

Nothing about him told me he was high, save his red eyes, easily explained away by his emotions. Anyone else would have been hyperactive, amped up and probably delusional at this point. He was somber and reflective. Careful.

"It takes a lot to do it, these days," he explained. "I don't know why I did it in the first place. I'm a wreck without you, Ada."

He took the opportunity to finally kiss me back. His breath tasted of burnt, bitter chemicals, but everything else about it gave me butterflies.

I rested on him a minute before I gathered the courage to ask.

"You said you had some other stuff to tell me."

He sighed again, long and deep.

"I've been keepin' a couple things from ya. Omissions, really. But I don't want to do that anymore. Ya want the little one or the big one, first?"

"Let's do little," I said, slightly scared of what might come next.

"Well, earlier today, I shoulda told ya that when I was in jail, I was shot. A number of times."

"What the hell, Cass?" I demanded.

"Listen—it was understandable, given the situation. The sheriff's looking for his kid, the one with the arse face, and he was pumping me for info, that's all. Had the kindness to keep me fed with blood to heal me back up, too."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want to worry you, after everything we'd just been through. I'm really sorry."

"Okay," I said, trying to get my bearings.. "I get that. But that's the little one? What the hell is the big one?"

He took a deep, measured breath, and then another. God, this one was going to be a doozy.

"Well, you've been mentioning your ma, the vampire..."

"Uh huh..." I led him on.

"I really should have taken that as an opportunity to tell you I have a son. His name's Denis."

Not what I was expecting. My jaw must have dropped to the floor.

"When were you going to tell me that?" I asked, incredulous.

"I don't know," he admitted. "It felt so much easier not to. And I know that wasn't right. I'm sorry."

Somehow, this bombshell was harder to wrap my head around than an actual murder. I tried to stay calm. I did understand where he was coming from, a little. I might actually be pissed, if I weren't so curious. 

"Is he... Like me? Half-vampire?"

"I wouldn't say he's like you," he said. "But yeah. If by that you mean human."

"Are you in his life?"

"I see him when I can."

"How old is he?"

"Well let's see," he started counting on his fingers. "Five, six, seven... Hell he must be 70-somethin' by now."

I always managed to forget Cass had been around for over a century. I _knew _what he was, but when I was with him, I just saw a dude my age. That's what he felt like, and my brain generally refused to acknowledge his timelessness.

"Jesus, Cass," I said, not sure what else to say.

"So that's what I've been meaning to tell you," he said in a hurry. "I'm sorry I ever kept anything from you, Ada. I want to be honest with ya if I can. So if there's anything else on yer mind, I'm an open book."

I pondered that for a second before asking.

"Have you ever been married?" I asked

"Never."

"Any other kids out there?"

"No," he said. "Well, that I know of. There were times I was a bit reckless. I wouldn't fully doubt it. I'm sorry."

Again, I didn't know what to say. Too many competing thoughts. More to take in, on top of a huge day. Then, one big thought sprang to mind.

"If Jesse hadn't said what he had, and if I _had _been shot, what would you have done?"

"I was... I was ready to bite you. To turn you," he said plainly. "I don't know if that's what you want, but that's what I was ready to do to save you. _Is_ that what you want?"

I had to think before answering, but Cass was willing to give me the time.

"I don't know, Cass," I admitted. "The way you talk about it—the pain, the loneliness, the boredom—it doesn't sound like an easy life. An eternal one, at that. But spending it with you... That wouldn't be so bad."

I smiled and he smiled back at me, soft but contemplative. He didn't ask me to think about it, or reconsider. He just said, "I understand."

We were quiet after that. So much to think about. So much that could be said. The silence was palpable, and yet somehow welcome.

"Thanks for telling me all of that, Cass," I eventually said. "I know it wasn't easy. And I know it's because you want to do better. I love you."

"I love ya, too," he said, and he seemed lighter, a small burden lifted. "I just need ta know, after everything that happened today, after knowin' about me... Are ya still up for this?"

"Cass, I wouldn't rather be anywhere else," without a moment's hesitation.

"It's just, it only took a few hours for everything to go to hell," he said. "I couldn't stand havin' something like that happen to you again."

He wasn't wrong, but even these few hours in, I felt it was too late to turn back. I had a taste for this excitement, and I wouldn't give up this wild thing, with Cassidy by my side, for the world.

"I'm sure," I told him, and kissed him again. He returned it tenderly and passionately before he took my hand, still unsteady, and I rested my head on his shoulder.

It was then that a door opened softly behind us, and then three sets of footsteps padded onto the porch—two human, four chubby Chihuahua. We both turned to look at the man, older and slightly grizzly. Yet, there was a wisdom in his face.

"Hello, Mike," Cassidy said with some disdain in his voice.

"Mhmm," Mike said, returning the favor. "And this must be the resurrected Miss Ada."

That made Cass clutch my hand even harder.

"Yessir," I answered, trying to be polite if I could. We were guests in his home, after all.

"Well," he thought. "I'm not gettin' to bed anytime soon, and even then I have my chair. So if the two of you can make it work, you can have the couch for tonight. The bed in my room won't sleep four and... Well you probably don't wanna interrupt anything, if you catch my meaning."

We thanked Mike again and finally headedinside. The place was small and smelled like dust and mildew, once loved, now disused. It was dark, and I was grateful that no noise came from the hall leading to the home's single bedroom.

A quilt was draped over the body of the couch, and a hastily folded bedsheet sat in the center.

Even now, Cassidy's hands were cold and shaking. I took one of them, and guided him to the bathroom, where I ran water in the sink until it was hot. He stood behind me, lean arms stretched around mine, head peeking over my right shoulder, and I did what I could to wash away the filth of the day. I realized there had been dried blood under his fingernails as I massaged his hands with the suds of a bar of cheap soap, pinching to work out the tension in his knuckles, roughly running my fingers over his palms and working the mound between his thumb and index finger to finally get him to relax. It seemed to work. The shaking subsided in his now warm hands, and in the mirror I could see that has demeanor had relaxed. Maybe now, his heart could rest.

"Thank you," Cassidy whispered. He kept his voice as low as possible, as we could hear light breathing from the connecting bedroom. The walls seemed paper-thin. "I feel almost normal again."

"Good," I murmured back, taking his now warmed hands up in mine, bringing them up to give him a soft kiss on the knuckles, and then clasping them close to my chest. I realized then how hard my heart was thrumming as Cassidy held his head next to mine, embracing me tightly, his expression dedicated and serious.

I felt a hard pressure at the small of my back, and then Cass backed away from me slightly. His expression in the mirror was sheepish.

"Sorry, love," he apologized quietly. "Inappropriate."

I didn't think so. He was beautiful standing here, and vulnerable. I just wanted to be close to him. It'd been nearly a week since we'd been intimate that last time in my apartment. That seemed like a lifetime ago now. After everything, I needed him to take me.

I backed up into the hard-on jutting against his soft PJ pants, rubbing against him gently with my body and he left out a soft, pleasured moan that sent a light chill down my body.

"Or we could always..." I trailed off, and he caught my drift with a smiling nod.

"Where?" he whispered. Neither of us wanted to do it in this dingy bathroom, but we didn't have many options.

"The couch?" I suggested.

"That just might work," Cass said, and we scampered back out to the living room in the dark with only one thing on our minds.

The couch wasn't spacious by any means, but it'd do.

We both got under the large, thin quilt, Cass arched up against the back pillows, his arms wrapped around me tight as we silently slid down our pants under the covers and I angled my legs so he could penetrate me from behind. I was already dripping wet, and as he filled me again and again with his hard, strong cock I found it hard to keep silent.

His breaths were low but sharp as he fucked me in the dark. One of his hands crawled under my shirt to massage my breasts, cautious of the deep bruises there, while the other found a place just below the curve of my tummy, and he held me there to keep me in just the right spot.

Now, though he barely moved, each little thrust was explosive inside of me. I wanted to shout, for him to hear how much I loved being made love to, but he knew. He could feel my every flutter of movement. His head found the perfect place in the side of my neck, and he planted kiss upon kiss there as our hips scarcely swayed, rhythmically joining again and again in pure pleasure.

Then there was the sound of an old, creaky door opening, and a dim light filtered into the room. Cassidy and I paused, not daring to move a muscle, his erection still shoved deep inside of me. Somehow, our quiet panting did resemble the breath of slumber. I closed my eyes and pretended to doze as the figure—probably Jesse, based on the footfall—made its way through the house and out the screened front door.

We both snickered, electrified by the thrill of the possibility of getting caught. That tension seemed to heighten each of my senses.Then Cassidy craned his long neck around to kiss me carefully on the mouth. I immediately grinded back up against him, hungry for him, but he held in place for now, lowering the hand on my pubic bone just slightly and extending a middle finger to find my wet clit throbbing between my legs.

He played with it with the pad of his finger, sometimes pressing rigorously, making me clench and buck against him, and sometimes so teasingly delicate I couldn't stand it, nearly breaking my silence to let out the bliss I was concealing. I did everything I could to breathe in sync with Cass to resist calling out or moaning with pleasure. When I felt the approach of my climax, I could only tell him with my body, pumping him rhythmically with the tiniest hip thrusts against him. He knew I was close, and began to apply an even and steady pressure to my clit in the tiniest of circles until that barrier inside me dissolved. The muscles of my pussy clenched and pulsed around his large, powerful cock, and he held me against his body as I rode out that wave of quiet, unfiltered ecstasy.

When I was done, breathing hard and slightly sticky was sweat, he continued to make love to me in secret under that old quilt. When the pace of both his thrusts and breath quickened, I knew he was close. Those last pumps were the hardest of all, and I couldn't keep a tiny gasp from escaping my lips. Cass let out a low, nearly silent growl before we both panted contentedly in the dark. As he held me, I nearly forgot about the hellish day that had brought us here.

"I love you, Cass," I whispered, and he held on to me tighter.

"I love ya too, Adelaide," he answered, kissing my temple.

We lay there for a moment longer before we carefully made our way back to the bathroom to clean up. When we returned to the couch, we resumed a similar position. From there, it only took moments for me to drift off to blissful sleep.


	19. Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the gun fight, Cass exposes Ada to a brand new experience.

I slept uninterrupted through the night, dreaming wistfully about Cassidy. While I couldn't remember most of the dream's contents in the morning, I remembered it was cool and comfortable and cloudy, and I felt loved and protected and profoundly lucky. My rest was deep and restorative, despite the lack of space and the sag of the squishy old couch.

We were gently jostled awake just before noon, Cass's arms still holding me tight to his strong body, and as I opened my eyes, I realized I already had a smile on my face. Cassidy, on the other hand, was a deep sleeper, still snoring gently behind me, and it'd take a little more than a little shake to fully wake him.

Above us, Jesse stood, already donning his priestly black getup with the stiff white collar. I thought he looked cautious, like he'd been practicing what he was about to say.

"Hey," Jesse said down at me gently, "I just wanna say I'm relieved you made it out of there. I'm sorry about... well, about how things went."

_Sure ya are, Padre, _I thought in Cass's voice. I almost believed I heard him say the words, but he was still out of it.

I paused, considering my words before I responded.

"Thank you, Jess," I finally said. This didn't need to be a bigger deal than it was, and he did seem genuinely sorry. "Let's just put the whole thing behind us. Keep moving forward. After all, we've got a God to find."

He looked surprised at my reaction, but satisfied.

"Let's do that," he said with a smirk. "And get Cass up and ready soon, would you? We gotta get headed out soon."

"On it, preacher," I said.

He let us be for the time being, leaving me with the tricky task of waking a sleeping vampire.

Without moving his arms, I wriggled in place to face him and placed one arm over his dozing body. His hair was somewhat disheveled, and his angular nostrils flared with each half-snore, but morning breath and all, he was gorgeous, and he was mine. I placed my lips against his, and kissed him contentedly, and after a moment he kissed me back, eyes gently opening to reveal their hazel twinkle, the corners of his mouth turning up into a wide, sharp grin.

"Mornin' love," he said, sleepy but intently staring deep into my eyes. He seemed fully refreshed and brand new, and I wished I could stretch that beautiful second on for an eternity.

"Morning, Cass," I replied softly with a smile of my own. "It's time to get up. We need to get back on the road, soon."

"Alright," he acquiesced. "But could ya lay here with me for just five more minutes?"

I was happy to oblige him, soaking up everything of the moment I could. He held me in his arms like precious cargo, firmly but gentle all the same. When he was caught up in one of these moments, it was as if his features softened, decades of the pain and concern that kept him sharp somewhere a million miles away. Just being next to him gave me such strength and joy and clarity that leaving his side always felt like a terrible mistake. Even the dingy old home felt warmer and friendlier in the daytime.

Before I wanted them to be, our five minutes were up. We got up, and folded the quilted blanket back up into a neat stack. I excused myself with intentions to quickly use the shower, lamenting the fact it would be wildly inappropriate to share with Cass at the moment, and ran into Tulip in the hallway on the way. Her eyes went wide when she saw me, and she immediately threw her arms around me and gave me a tight squeeze. I was still incredibly sore, and it hurt, but I appreciated the gesture.

"You okay?" she asked me, now holding me by the shoulders at arm's length. She eyed me up and down, as if inspecting me for damage. I was glad any telling marks were concealed by my clothes.

"I'm alright," I assured her. "Thanks for worrying about me." 

She eyed me for a couple more moments, as if to be absolutely sure, before she seemed satisfied.

"And how's Cass?" she added, now keeping her voice down, peering into the living room to make sure he couldn't hear. "He wasn't doing so hot last night."

"It wasn't his finest hour," I admitted. "But I think today he's feeling good as new."

"Good," she said simply, with a nod and the beginnings of a smile. "For a second I thought this whole thing might be doomed."

And with that she ran off, and all I wanted—besides my Cassidy—was the healing, cleansing touch of a hot shower.

That didn't exactly work out. The water in the cramped cubicle of a shower stall started out lukewarm, and as I waited for it to get hot, it simply grew more and more frigid. As I gave up, deciding against a shower that would do nothing but chill me to the core, I realized I was a dreamer for ever imagining any kind of steamy getaway with a lover in there.

Instead I splashed my face with too-cold water from the sink and gave my teeth a much-needed brushing. As I got changed into a fresh sweater, I caught a glimpse of the deep purple and grey bruises that unattractively covered my ribs and chest in the medicine cabinet mirror. They looked horrible, but I was I couldn't mind them too much. They were marks of survival.

When I exited the little bathroom, the others were waiting for me. Cass had also gotten dressed while I was away, donning a collared shirt under a denim jacket, topped with a shallow knit beanie. His sense of style always mystified me. On anyone else, the ensemble wouldn't have worked in the slightest, but on him, his selections just made sense. Or maybe he was just hot enough to get away with anything.

"We good to go?" Tulip asked, keys in hand.

"Ready," Cass announced, wrapping one arm around my waist, and slinging the pillow case that served as his suitcase over the opposite shoulder.

"Alright. Let's go, bitches," Tulip shouted excitedly, and after we said our goodbyes and thank yous to Mike, we were back in the Chevelle and headed to our next destination.

* * *

The drive to Kimble County was long and uneventful, but after yesterday's chaos, that was welcome. Cass was back to his old self, and it seemed he'd completely forgiven Jesse—or forgotten that he was livid with him in the first place. It was almost as if nothing had happened, save a few questions about the gunman and ensuing chaos that I was fully unable to answer.

We passed the time with a radio station that plated cheesy '80s, Jesse's brief explanation of where we were headed and why, and more speculation of what we were going to do with (and to) God when we found him. When Cass started to get bored—which, to be fair, didn't take that long—he asked me to retell the story I'd told him last night.

"You sure?" I asked him. "It's kind of a long one, and I don't know if they'll be all that interested..."

"Course I'm sure," he said. "It's one o' the greats, and you're a master storyteller."

"You just heard it."

"Well I'd like ta hear it again," he insisted.

"Alright," I said, and began the tale from the start. Jesse and Tulip listened attentively and patiently as I spoke.

Despite their interest, they didn't seem to fully recognize the premise until I got to the bit about the bus fit with a bomb that would explode if it didn't maintain at least 50 miles an hour.

"Wait," Tulip interrupted. "Isn't this that movie?"

"I think it is," Jesse chimed in unhelpfully.

"Yeah," Tulip continued. "The one with, uh, Jeff Daniels?"

"Bloody _Jeff Daniels_?" Cass asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Tulip said, getting defensive. "He's in it, isn't he?"

"But of _all _the people you coulda named! You've got Keanu Reeves. Legendary. Dennis Hopper was an icon, God rest his soul. And there's _Miss Congeniality _herself, Sandra Bullock. She's a national treasure. But you remember Jeff Daniels, of all people. Jaysis."

"I like _Dumb and Dumber,_ okay?" she countered. "It's funny."

She seemed to squirm a little in her seat in the silence that followed.

"And it's not like you have the most trustworthy movie taste anyway," she added after a moment.

"And what's that s'posed to mean?" Cass demanded in the high-pitched tone he took when he was feeling slightly haughty.

"It means you don't even like _The Big Lebowski_, so what do you know?" She was only half-joking.

"That film is just a series of non sequiter nonsense and I won't stand fer it." Cassidy argued, pointing aggressively. "Shite just _happens_, and we're meant to accept it. Well, I won't."

He shook his head dramatically and I held back a laugh with all my might.

"That's the whole point of the movie," Tulip rebutted.

"Well I don't like it," he said.

"Fine."

"_Fine_."

Another tense silence followed before Tulip spoke again.

"Well..." she started.

"Well what?" Cass asked, still keyed up.

"Not you," Tulip shushed him. "The story. The bus that can't slow down. She was just gettin' to the good part."

I was happy to resume my narration, and this time Cassidy provided some of the sound effects for good measure. Before we knew it, we were in the parking lot of She She's, complete with string lights and bright neon signs.

Jesse had described the place as some kind of dance spot, but this was very obviously a strip club. From the outside, it didn’t look like much at all. This didn’t seem like the kind of place that would attract God's attention in the slightest—but what did I know about God?

"I think this is just a cover. Hide in plain sight kind of thing," Cassidy speculated as we left the car and approached the front door. "Outside, it's a strip club. Inside, old chaps wearing robes, smokin’ bloody pipes and that."

He held the door open, gesturing for the rest of us to enter, and as I did, it became apparent he was far off. Garish colored lights filled the room, and they had a live band playing slow, sleepy jazz music, as scantily clad ladies danced around poles and brought drinks. The whole thing felt incredibly seedy.

"Or, even better, it's just a normal strip club," Cass said, taking me me by the hand. "Alright. We're gonna go and have a look 'round, see what we can find out."

He quickly pulled me to the side to chat over the squawk of a saxophone.

"You ever been to a place like this?" Cassidy asked me, genuinely curious. I had to say that I hadn't.

"I never really got the appeal," I shrugged.

"Well, I can show you the ins and outs?" he offered sincerely. "Ya never know, you might even enjoy it."

His grin was mischievous, and I couldn't resist his offer. Even if it didn't wind up being exactly my cup of tea, it was worth trying this one time.

"What the hell," I said with a smile. "Let's do this."

We wound up in a little curtained-off area, the third from the wall, and I sat just to Cass's right on a loveseat as a shapely blonde called Angel swayed and turned her hips and ran her hands down her chest in front of us. She smelled strongly of sickly sweet vanilla body spray, and the scent made me slightly dizzy. 

As she moved her body rhythmically, going twice as fast as the too-slow music, I looked over at Cass and saw that he was watching me instead of Angel, trying to gauge my reaction. I could tell he wanted me to enjoy it more than I did, that he'd get a kick out of having a partner who could enjoy this pastime with him. I couldn't give that to him, and I wouldn't pretend. He could see it clear as day, but it didn't seem to bother him. He'd expected as much.

"Not your thing?" he asked me, slightly too loud over the wailing jazz. I was sure Angel could hear us both.

"Nah," I admitted, having to yell a bit to be heard. "Look, you're gorgeous," I said directly to Angel, feeling weird about talking _about_ her when she was right in front of us, "but I just don't think this whole thing does it for me. No offense."

"None taken," she said, breezily. "Thanks for the compliment."

I felt unbearably awkward, but maybe this kind of interaction was actually a nice change of pace for her. Nonetheless, she continued her dance. She was at work, after all.

"Is it the girl thing?" Cass asked me, always taking the opportunity to learn. He knew my sexuality was a bit fluid, but that I was only newly exploring. Even I didn't know the extent my growing tastes.

"I don't think so," I answered. "I wouldn't necessarily want to see a guy strip. I imagine it'd have a similar vibe?"

"Ya mean you wouldn't even want to see me strip?" he asked, not a hint of jokiness tinging his voice.

I tried to imagine it and, well...

"Well I'd have to see that," I answered simply, and that seemed to get a rise out of him.

"I'll give you a lap dance later," he promised with a wink and a peck on the cheek, and I couldn't help but look forward to it.

"You gonna put me out of a job?" Angel butted in, pausing for a moment. At this point, neither of us were paying much attention to her, and I almost felt bad for ignoring her work.

"No no no," Cass insisted, shaking his head emphatically. "I'm sorry. Please resume. We'll be good."

"Alright," she said with a pleasant smile, and did.

It was then that Cassidy turned to me and asked under his breath. "Did you want to touch her?"

"I..." I stammered. "The sign clearly says 'No touching'!"

"Yeah, but there's a three-second rule," he asserted.

"I don't believe that’s a thing,” I argued.

"She's right, y'know," Angel told Cass. "But I'll make an exception because I like her."

Cassidy gave me an impressed look, his lips pressed together and eyebrows both raised high.

"You sure?" I asked her, definitely curious but not positive what answer I wanted her to give me.

"I insist."

After a brief hesitation, I tentatively reached out to touch her sizable breasts through the fabric of her stretchy, tight-fitting top. The whole thing felt more scientific than sexy, and I tried to hide my surprise at their tough, firm texture.

"You like 'em?" she asked. "My surgeon's a true artist. If you wanna get yours done," she took a glance at my comparatively meager chest, "I can give you his card."

"I'm good, but thank you," I said, suddenly feeling slightly self-conscious, but I had no time to wonder whether I needed enhancements or not because not a second later, a big, bald and burly bouncer entered the room.

"I heard you were gettin' handsy," he announced, his voice deep and agitated. He approached Cassidy looking ready for a fight, and Cass just raised his hands back, lost and confused.

"Hey," I got up and stood slightly in front of Cassidy, feeling extremely defensive on his behalf. "He didn't lay a finger on her. It's me you want."

He looked baffled.

"Back off, Doug," Angel shouted. "It's okay, I said she could."

"What's wrong with y'all?" he asked, not a hint of pleasantness to his voice. "Can't you read?"

He tapped the nearest, massive sign reading "No Touching" with a meaty finger.

"Look, I'm sorry," I said, sounding as innocent as I could. "If it's a problem, we'll pay and leave."

I grabbed Cassidy's hand and motioned to exit the small room, but before I could, Doug placed a hand on each of my shoulders and shoved me back onto the small couch. It seemed to take barely effort at all, and it didn't hurt, but the action took me completely by surprise.

"Oh no you don't," he said.

"You bastard," Cass growled, rising from his seat and getting in the bouncer's face. "Nobody dares lay a hand on... oh alright then."

He lifted his hands, and I didn't understand his sudden change of tone until I, too, saw the reflective barrel of the small handgun he'd appeared to conjure out of thin air. It was pointed straight at Cass, and the three of us tensed at his casual gun-waving and froze in place.

Then there was the static pulse of a walkie-talkie, and then the slightly garbled voice of an older woman.

"Doug? Hello? Do you copy? Come into my office, please."

But Doug was preoccupied with us. He pointed the gun toward me now. His demeanor—and of course the firearm—made his imposing stature incredibly menacing. He must have had 100 pounds on me, and he towered over me threateningly, not afraid to brandish the weapon.

"Hey, Douglas, man," Cass now pleaded as calmly as he could, given the situation. "Listen, she didn't know. It's her first time at one o' these places, and we'd really appreciate it if you'd chill out."

"Seriously, Doug," Angel added. "It's my fault. I invited her to touch 'em..."

"Shut the hell up," he commanded, and we did.

The noisy slush of the walkie-talkie buzzed again.

"Doug, I need you in my office," the woman's voice said again. I prayed he'd decide to attend to that business, but he didn't.

Instead, he turned to Angel to reprimand her, this time lowering the gun. But the second his back was turned, Cassidy jumped on him, looping his long arms around the man's enormous shoulders, in an attempt to wrestle the gun away.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, backing off as the gun waved back and forth. Cassidy's strength was greater than his lean frame let on, and even though the two weren't quite evenly matched, I was surprised he had any leverage at all.

"I'm... fighting for your honor," he grunted as they tussled. "No one waves a gun in my lover's face and gets away with it."

God this was dumb, and dangerous to boot, but I couldn't help but be beguiled by the fact he'd do that for me. Still, he wasn't thinking. If he got shot, he'd manage, but I might not be so lucky.

"Knock it off, both of you!" Angel shrieked. As much as I wanted this thing to be done with, I found myself rooting for Cass to get the upper hand. What'd happen if and when he did, I had no idea.

Another buzz from the walkie-talkie.

"Doug! Damn it. Doug, you idiot, quit your fooling around and get in here!"

Apparently this wasn't the only place things were going off the rails. Whatever chaos Jesse and Tulip were causing in the other room, it'd have to wait.

And then, the inevitable happened. A deafening blast rang through the tiny curtained room. Cass released his grip, and each of us checked ourselves, and then each other, to see what damage had been done. No one had been hurt. At least, no one here.

"Ya don't think you should follow the bullet?" Cass pointed at Doug. "Jaysis Christ, Douglas, ya really are the worst bouncer ever."

He handed me a number of crisp $20s to give to Angel "fer her trouble" and ran out of the room to inspect the situation, and Doug followed close behind him. I don't know how much money I gave Angel, but she looked damned happy about it, and after thanking her for everything (and apologizing profusely) I followed the others.

The bullet hole had pierced the wall on the opposite side of the hall. When I finally arrived, the others were standing, dumbfounded, over an older woman. She'd been shot square through the chest, and was breathing her last.

"I hope you find him, Preacher," she wheezed somberly. "You will shit yourself."

In another second she was gone, her words still ringing in my ears and chilling me to my very soul. Wordlessly, we got out of there in a hurry, and left Doug to deal with what he’d done.


	20. The Relax Inn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang checks into a motel for a few moments of respite

We got out of She She's in a hurry, and while Tulip was more than happy to chew out Cass and me for our part in Tammy's death, Jesse was dead silent**. **He had God on the mind, and for the moment, it seemed that everything else was secondary to him.

The night was beginning to feel like one big, strange blur. I felt absolutely sick about what had happened to **the **club's manager. If we'd been anywhere else that night, she'd still be alive. And yet, I knew neither of us could be held responsible for how badly things had gone awry.

I'd touched Angel with her consent—at her insistence, really—and the intervention seemed to start off as a misunderstanding before escalating into a willful and ferocious display of power. What happened between me and Angel wasn't a big deal. It was Doug who'd happily resorted to violence. It was his gun, and his bullet that did Tammy in, with his trigger on the finger.

Cass had just been protective of me, and I couldn't deny that fact made my heart swell and my cheeks flush. He apologized to Jess and Tulip for encouraging me and for trying to save my life and promised it wouldn't happen again, that he'd make it up. Maybe spending a couple days on the road with these three had completely skewed my reasoning, but I knew in my heart that Cass wasn't to blame. I understood he'd look after me and keep me safe no matter what might come our way.

And it's not like Jesse hadn't gotten what he was looking for, either. God _had_ been to that club, and we had a lead—he was a jazz lover.

We'd decided to head east and rest for the night at a little motel called the Relax Inn. Now, Cass and I were alone in our own room, the curtains drawn to keep out the outside's obnoxious neon glow.

The possibilities seemed endless.

It only took moments once we were inside for Cassidy to cradle his tender hands on either side of my face and press his lips to mine. His caress was soft and his kiss was sweet. I kissed him back hungrily, and before I knew it we were both clumsily undressing. I grabbed the front of my sweater with both hands and pulled it up and over my head, while Cass reached a single hand behind his back to shed his own shirt.

I expected another impassioned kiss to follow, but instead, Cassidy paused abruptly.

"Christ, love," he murmured, reaching out and touching the tips of his slender tattooed fingers to the map of bruises that made its way across my chest, beginning to grow a sickly green around the edges. Goosebumps covered my body at his touch, and then he wrapped both strong arms around me, pulling my head to his chest. His heart thumped rapidly.

"Y'know I'm so glad yer safe?" he asked in a singsongy whisper.

"I know, Cass."I clung to his naked torso like my life depended on it. "Thank you for looking out for me."

"Always, _mo ghrá_," he promised. I didn't know the words, but they sounded like music.

"What's that mean?" I asked, looking up at him in the dim light, still holding him tight.

"I s'pose it's like... 'my love,'" he translated carefully.

"It's beautiful," I told him. "I love it."

"And I love you," he said. He wore a soft smile, even though his brows creased with worry. He broke away just enough to bend down and kiss me gently again on the lips. "Now how 'bout we get you out of the rest o' these clothes and into the shower?"

After this morning's disappointment, nothing sounded better. The motel bathroom wasn't the biggest or most elegant of places, but it seemed clean enough, and when Cassidy worked the knobs for the shower, the water seemed to instantly run hot, steaming up the room and making the mirror fog.

He carefully undid the hook of my bra with skilled fingers, unzipped my jeans and slid down my panties. Perhaps the moment should have been sexually charged, but his movements instead felt gentle and nurturing. I couldn't quite define it, except for that it felt like love.

He undressed next, revealing more of his inked body. It held so many untold stories I couldn't wait to hear. In certain moments, the mere sight of him made me forget to breathe. This man, so stunning, so funny and kind and devoted, remained somehow hidden in plain sight to everyone who met him. Jesus, I was so lucky to be able to _see_ what was invisible to the others.

He held a hand over his groin as his pants came off, failing to conceal that he was hard.

"Ignore that," he said, for once in his life sounding almost embarrassed.

"How could I?" I replied with a smirk.

"In due time," he tried to calm me down. "First, let me take care of you."

How could I resist?

I stepped into the shower first, and the hot water was immediately electric against my skin, rinsing the troubles and grime of two tricky days away with it. Cass soon joined me, standing behind me with his hands carefully at my waist as the heat ran over his shoulder and down my back.

When I reached for the tiny bottle of generic motel shampoo, Cassidy met my hand with his.

"Allow me..." he said. He took the bottle and squirted a generous dollop into his hand. He put it back before rubbing both hands together, and then he began to massage my scalp, working up a luxurious lather with a sharp, clean scent. He was always good with his hands, and the deep presses of his fingers instantly relaxed me, melting away the tension in my head. I realized I'd been clenching my jaw and loosened there. I let out a contented moan.

He kissed me three times in a line between the neck and shoulder, leaving me with a little shiver.

"Water comin' yer way," he said next, warning me before he moved to the side, allowing the spray of the shower head to flow directly to me, rinsing my long hair free of the millions of tiny bubbles. "What's next?" he asked gently. 

I told him, and he grabbed the tiny bottle of cheap conditioner, basically emptying it. He smoothed it over every inch of my soaking tresses, very gently using his fingers to thoroughly run it through until my hair was hydrated and straight and knotless. It was such a simple, mundane act, but the intimacy of it was brand new. 

It was then that we heard a series of loud slams from Tulip and Jesse's room next door. To me, I couldn't tell what they were, but Cass stood at attention, perked up as he listened carefully.

"What is that?" I asked, hating to shift the mood, but too curious to resist.

"Sounds like a door being kicked down," he murmured matter-of-factly into my ear. "But it's coming from inside. They're prob'y playin' some kind of game. Don't worry yerself about it. You've gotta let that soak, right?"

Good old Cassidy, always knowing how to get right back to the important stuff.

"Mhmm," I replied with a satisfied smile, and reached over to hand him a miniature bar of soap.

He worked it between his hands into suds, then wrapped his strong arms around my body, tenderly beginning by soaping my contused chest. It was as if his fingers barely touched, gliding without friction against my ribs and down my belly in soft circles, teasing me by stopping just short of my breasts. The pads of his fingers were strong but gentle, and I felt a surge of heat rush through my body, stirring something deep down, enhancing the ambrosial contact. I gave myself to his every touch.

Next, he quickly relathered before he worked his hands around to my back, moving my wet hair around my neck to place his dextrous hands on my shoulders, pressing into the tissue, somehow finding the exact spots I was holding all of my tension there. I felt everything in my neck relax, and let my head slump in the heavenliness of it all. He spent some time there, patiently working out the knots until he felt satisfied I was fully loosened and relaxed.

Now, his hands worked symmetrically down my back, again applying pressure in just the right places, the sore points aching out for a moment before giving way to bliss.

"Is that okay, love?" he whispered. I must have let out a little whimper.

"Mmm yes," I said in basically a gasp.

"Good," he said, moving his head to kiss and nibble my ear as his hands moved down, drawing small circles with his fingers down my lower back, descending slowly, _so_ slowly until he reached by ass, deviating into a soft, slow, circular rub that drove me wild in a way I hadn't experienced before. I wanted him to fuck me rough right then and there, but I didn't dare stop any of this prematurely. Another soft moan escaped my lips, and when Cassidy moved on, I wondered what he had next in store for me.

He moved down even further south, kneeling down to caress my thighs with his fingertips, then my knees and calves, and briefly to my aching feet, but it was clear that wasn't where he wanted to devote his time. He moved up then, to my arms, first taking my right and gliding this fingers firmly down its length, before stopping at my hand and gently running down each finger with a claw of his thumb, index and middle fingers, beginning with my thumb, running from the tips down to the knuckle. By now, most of the stress was gone from my body, but it was as if the last of it was zapped from my fingertips.

He did the same on the opposite side, and when he was done with my left hand, he wrapped both arms around my front again, this time caressing the yearning breasts he had saved for last. His hands cupped them tenderly, gripping gently with his fingertips, applying pressure in exactly the matter that sent throbbing pulses of pure sensation down my body, making me ache for him. I let him spoil me for another moment before I moved back toward him, pressing against his softening but still plump cock and making him give out a deep, joyful groan.

Now was my chance to treat him. I turned to face him, the deliciously warm water still spilling over both of us, and nestled my head to his chest, gripping the base of throbbing erection, keeping my hold firm as I slowly stroked him to the tip, and then back again.

"Aw fuck," Cass whimpered with pleasure, his eyes rolling back slightly, and I knew I was on the right path. I continued on that way for a while, my hand's movements calculated and slow, until he was fully hard in my hand and the pace of his breathing began to quicken. He reached out with a hand to massage one of my breasts, playing with the nipple with the tip of his index finger, causing me to breathe hard along with him. I then moved my hand to the rigid end of his shaft, working him rapidly back and forth, and he moaned and breathed fast and I knew it wouldn't be long before he climaxed.

"Where do you wanna cum?" I whispered up at him as he got even closer.

I don't think he expected the question.

"I... On yer face," he answered between gasps. "Is that okay?"

"Yessir," I submitted eagerly, getting on my knees and never releasing my hold on his cock, even as I was eye-level with it. From there, it only took a few more sturdy strokes for him to quiver and moan, and for his hot cum to spurt over my forehead, down my chin and onto my breasts. A few more strong motions expelled the rest, and at the end of it he was panting with a spent smile on his face, exhaling happily.

"I'm sorry, love," he said with a sheepish grin as he reached down to help me back to my feet. He moved aside, urging me to get right under the shower to clean up. "I hope ya don't think me a monster, just that was one o' the hottest things I've ever seen."

"Definitely not a monster," I responded, making sure my face and chest were thoroughly cleansed. "The view wasn't so bad from my perspective, either."

His smile seemed to bare every one of his sharp teeth.

"Now it's my turn ta take care of you," he said quietly, like a vow. "Wanna finish up in here and get ta bed?"

I nodded impatiently, and we quickly finished up our shower and got toweled off before I laid back on the quilted motel bedsheet with a towel under my sopping hair. Cass gently kissed my gender bruises, then down my belly all the way to his final destination. His head hovered between my legs. He spread them gently, my knees around his ears, and then...

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

He paused and raised his head, staring at the wall behind me.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

It was the unmistakable sound of sex, the bed frame slamming into the wall in a just-offbeat rhythm. Jesse and Tulip's loud, pleasured moans soon followed. Something about it seemed performative. Perhaps they had something to prove to each other.

That instantly killed my horny buzz. I think it destroyed the mood for Cass as well.

"This isn't sexy anymore, is it?" he asked, his tone almost apologetic.

"Not really," I admitted. "I'm sorry."

I didn't quite understand why it _wasn't _erotic, but the sound and the thought instantly drained the charged atmosphere hanging in the room. It was what I imagined it would feel like to snap from inebriation to sobriety in a split second.

"Rain check?" I asked Cassidy.

"Rain check," Cass nodded in agreement. "They were like this at Mike's, too. A bit annoyin', aren't they?"

They sure were. It was getting late, anyhow, so I got changed into a clean pair of pajamas—a matching cotton set with little stars and moons on them—wrapped my hair up in my towel, and got under the sheets, relieved with how clean they looked and felt, while Cass put on a pair of tight cotton briefs. He caught me smiling to myself as I got tucked in.

"What's goin' in wit you?" he asked.

"Well, traditionally," I stated, resting my head cozily on the pillow, "Tighty-whities aren't known for being particularly sexy."

"Traditionally?" he repeated.

"Mhmm. But I swear you look captivating in anything," I gushed.

He have me a long stare.

"Ya really mean that, don'tcha?"

"Of course I do, Cass."

"I don't get it, but tank you," he said gently, crawling under the blankets beside me, taking my hand. "I need ya to know how beautiful you are ta me, Adelaide. How _good. _Ya make me feel like when good things happen to me, maybe I actually deserve 'em. I don't know if that makes sense."

I paused. Those words were nearly enough to bring tears to my eyes, and I held the emotion down.

"No, it does," I encouraged him, snuggling against his side. "I know it's not the same but when I'm with you everything feels... Real. And right. Like we matter to each other and that makes this important."

He nodded simply. Knowingly. We didn't speak for a while then, and it was perfect. Well, besides the slam of the bed frame against the other side of the wall.

"Let's get the TV on. Drown out this noise," Cass said, grabbing the remote control.

"Good idea," I mumbled, growing drowsy and comfortable even despite the disturbance.

The old cathode ray tube TV with bunny ears snapped alive to commercials. My tired mind easily tuned them out.

"Ho... Holy shit," Cass said excitedly, forcing my eyes back awake. "That’s—that’s him!"

Cass pointed at the TV and stammered.

"Who now?" I asked, half asleep.

"One o’ the angels," he explained. "Fiore. Or DeBlanc?”

I looked up at the screen to see a very pale face with wide features. He was wearing a lot of stage makeup and South Asian dress and spun against a rapidly shifting background of vibrant colors.

"A once-in-a-lifetime experience that you must see to believe," the ad's narrator explained. The text onscreen called him "The Amazing Ganesh." "Book your tickets today for a performance to remember from a performer you will never forget!"

"So he's turned his immortality into a stage act?" I asked.

"Seems like. Could be fun?"

"Mhmm," I agreed, cozying back down on my pillow. He leaned over and gave me a kiss on the forehead.

"Now get some rest," he whispered, and before I knew it, I was out like a light.


	21. You Can't Go Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another explosive confrontation and an immortal angel send Ada, Cassidy and the gang eastward

I have no idea how long I slept before a booming blast outside woke me, but it certainly wasn't long enough.

The sound, cracking like thunder against the calm night sky, was unmistakable. It was the gunman from the other day's shootout, and that knowledge made my stomach lurch with dread.

Cass was already up and out of bed, quickly getting dressed in the dark as tires screeched in the distance, followed by the impact of an earsplitting crash.

"I'm gonna go check that out," he said urgently. "Stay here and stay safe. Could you check on Jess 'n Tulip?"

I nodded, still blearily piecing together what I could, and he gave me a soft, lingering kiss before leaving.

"I love you, Adelaide."

"I love you too, Proinsias," I told him as I rose from bed. "Be careful."

Our room faced into the motel, rather than out into the street where the commotion was happening, but I could see a number of guests run outside. They were armed to the teeth, ready for a confrontation. Suddenly I recalled that, according to the big board in front of the motel, we happened to be sharing the place with the Greater Association of Gun Aficionados for the night. I hoped none of them would do anything too stupid.

It wasn't long before the sound of dozens of guns clicking ready filled the air, and then the rapid gunfire of automatic weapons mixed with shotguns rang out for a few solid seconds, ending in a massive whoosh followed by a bang. Someone had just shot off something _big_. They cheered and whistled in celebration, but I knew better than to rejoice too soon.

Their happy hollering stopped abruptly, followed by a number of booming explosions—the cowboy again, _shit_—and then desperate shouts. It sounded like people were dying out there. My stomach sank and I hoped Cass was well out of the way.

My heart beat fast as I tried to figure out what to do. I assured myself that Cass could handle himself, and with the battle sounding far off, I figured I had some time. I had to check on the others.

I stepped outside and found that their door was held ajar by the extended deadbolt, and I let myself in. It looked like Tulip was alone, planted in front of the TV at the side of her bed, immobile.

I was about to ask her what was up when I saw it. The news report was something I never could have seen coming.

“ANNVILLE, TX DESTROYED IN METHANE BLAST” read the chyron. Survivors were unlikely.

Annville. My home. Gone.

I sat down next to Tulip and stared with her as a million feelings bubbled up in my gut. Doing anything else felt impossible.

My mind raced. I should have thought first about the good ones. Emily had become a real friend. She'd done more than I'd ever dare to ask of her to save Cass's humanity. The Toadvine girls had showed me such kindness, despite my judgment, and done what they could to keep both Jesse and Cassidy safe, just because. They were lost now. I dearly hoped they were now in a better place.

But no—immediately my thoughts trailed to the evil rampant in Annville—the ones who had robbed me of my real family because they held only hatred in their hearts. I couldn't know how deep it went, but once Quincannon had become part of it, it had reached its dirty tendrils out into every crack it could find. I could conjure no sadness for the woman who raised me. She had been the most cruel of all. If she saw me now, she'd be happy to throw me to the dogs as well. Because of my love. That was no loss. Maybe that was justice. Good riddance.

I couldn't begin to to explain what I felt, then. Pain. Confusion. Fear. Maybe a little bit of relief mixed in. And even as the chaos outside grew nearer, I couldn't pull my eyes away.

I took Tulip's hand and she leaned closer to me. We watched, unblinking.

I didn't even hear the door open when Jesse let himself in.

"Ya hear that?" he shouted. "We gotta go!”

"Look," was all that Tulip could say, pointing at the TV.

He took a seat next to me, and then he saw it too. He took my free hand and stared with us, just as unable to comprehend. It was the closest I'd come to understanding Jesse. In that moment of tragedy, his soul was bared and I could see him. I had to choke back tears.

I don't know how long it was before Cass showed up and snapped me back to reality.

"We gotta go, we gotta go!" he insisted, baffled at our lack of movement. "What? What is it?”

"Look," Jesse said this time, and I was actually thankful a bullet blew through the wall and destroyed the TV at that moment, because the eruption of flames in an electrical crackle shook us awake, forcing the three of us remember how urgent the situation was.****

"Let’s go," Jesse finally said, and this time, he didn't have to tell us twice.****

We scrambled down the dark halls of the motel, past big brick pillars, and in retreating from the approaching shooter wound up at a dead end. 

We were trapped, resorting to hiding behind a vending machine at the end of a narrow hallway. I clutched to Cassidy, and he held me tight, looking me straight in the eye and assuring me we'd get out of this. Meanwhile, we heard the cowboy's every move as he drew nearer. Each body he encountered was immediately shot dead. 

Now, the gunman was just outside the doorway into the space where we huddled. Even those locked in their rooms weren't safe. He knocked down doors one by one and mowed down every living thing in the vicinity.****

"Now would be a really good time for Genesis," Tulip hissed as Cass inspected the room's only tiny window. I'd nearly forgotten about Jesse's power. Surely, that would get us out of this jam.****

"I tried!" Jesse answered her, almost desperate. "It doesn’t work.”

Well, shit. Our only way out would be the window, and it was painted shut. Cassidy insisted I get up on his shoulders to pry it open with the help of Tulip's pocket knife. I almost refused—I thought she would be much more capable with this kind of thing—but the fact he believed I could save them made me eager to prove him right. I could do this, and Cass reminded me again and again, occasionally giving me a gently squeeze on the calf to let me know.****

The last thing we needed was for some big bald moron with his arm blown off to show up trying to get a coke from the machine. It might have been okay, too, if he'd gotten the root beer he wanted, and not the ginger ale that dropped from the port. He was unhappy, and far too noisily calling attention to our hiding place. I tried not to pay him any attention as I scraped away at the paint that sealed the door in place, but my concentration was fried with the added pressure of impending death. I couldn't even hear myself think over the pounding of my heart in my ears.

Even as Cass begged him to be quiet, the man asked us if we had extra quarters before screaming about wanting his root beer and slamming his remaining hand against the machine again and again.

This was getting worrisome, now, and we all knew it.

"**_Be quiet,_**" Jesse finally commanded, and I was relieved when the man's bellows became whispers.

Maybe his silence gave me the clarity I needed, because half a second later, I managed to finally push the window open. Cass boosted me through the small opening first, and Tulip followed, with Jesse coming in after her. Cass was the last through, and I swore I heard the jangle of the shooter's spurs and holsters as Cass slid outside. I was thankful our pursuer was enormous and lumbering and that he'd never manage to fit through.

We scrambled to Tulip's car in a hurry. The wheels skidded across the pavement, and we all huffed, exhausted and terrified as we squealed out of the parking lot. In the rearview mirror, I swore I saw the figure of the cowboy following behind us, slow but determined.

Three of us were still stunned silent having just lost our town. Cass knew better than to say a word. Instead, he gave me a gentle, sweet look, and opened his arms for me to tuck my head again him. I shed a few silent tears as he held me and rocked me back to sleep as we headed further eastward.

* * *

When I woke sometime later, the sun was high in the sky and we were still on the road. I was curled up in the back seat, with my head resting in Cass's lap. He was gently stroking my hair.

"You awake, love?" he asked in a whisper, and I looked up at him, nodding gently in response. He touched the side of his hand to my cheek. "How are you doin'?"

Suddenly, everything that had happened rushed back to me. The fear. What I'd lost. And, maybe, what I'd gained from having my troubled home ripped away from me all at once, like tearing off a bandage.

"It hurts," I told him after a deep sigh, struggling to get my voice above a murmur. "But Annville wasn't really home anymore. Even so, there are people... I just wish I could have done something. They're just gone now. And then there are other parts that I'm glad I'll never have to worry about again."

He nodded. Maybe he didn't fully understand, but he was trying to, and I appreciated that.

"Does that make me a bad person?" I asked.

"O' course it doesn't," he answered softly. "I know it's complicated. Feelings are complicated, and yer entitled to every one of 'em."

"Thanks, Cass," I said. "Though... I do have one regret."

"And what's that?"

I rose to speak directly into his ear.

"That we never got to make good use of the back of that van of yours."

A wide grin stretched across his face.

"Shit," he said. "Well, that's a tragedy."

"That's what I'm saying," I agreed with half a smile, sitting up to rest on his shoulder. Only then did I remember we weren't alone. Our friends in the front seats seemed miles away, off in their own world, as Hank Williams crooned a melancholy tune on the radio.

Soon we pulled off the road into the parking lot in front of a big hotel.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Remember the commercial we saw last night?"

I barely did.

"Remind me?"

"The angel," he explained. "He might know about God, or at least about the cowboy who's been after us. I'd feel a lot better if ya never had to deal with him again."

That was good thinking—and I'd always kind of lamented the fact I hadn't had the chance to meet them. I knew Cass was fond of them, even though he was willing to take them for a bit of a ride. And they were _angels_. Of course I was curious.

As Tulip parked and we filled out of the car after the long drive, Cassidy propping his coat up over his head with his hands to create a shield from the sun, I realized I was still in my PJs. Cass noted the internal debate I was having with myself.

"The jim-jams are _very_ cute," he noted, and I blushed.

I noticed his own ensemble was particularly bold today, with a trench coat over a rust-colored shirt that wasn't even close to covering his lean stomach, and dark jeans shorts atop grey sweatpants. His, not confidence, but self-assurance and comfort with himself made him a special person indeed. If he could go out like this without an ounce of embarrassment, I could hang out for the day in my pajamas. He looked great, so fuck it. So could I.

The Mumbai Sky Tower was colored vibrantly pink, with high towers peeking out above the main casino building. “Tonight! The Amazing Ganesh” read the large marquee out front, and it was clear he was the one bringing in the crowds.

This casino was infamously allowed to operate in Texas because some officials hadn't understood the difference between Native American Indians and Indians from India, and they'd been too embarrassed about the mistake to admit it and make the correction. That should have made it a tourist destination, if the tourists had the wherewithal to make that distinction themselves.

The entrance of the casino was pretty typical, filled with slots and craps and poker tables. It was dimly lit and smelled strongly of years of accumulated cigarette smoke.

It was even darker in the theater out back. Men mopped angel blood off the floor while we waited to see Fiore backstage after the early afternoon showing. The room lit primarily by string lights, their light bouncing off the sequins of the sparkly stage curtains that accented the room.

"Fiore and his partner are the angels that came to Annville," Jesse explained to Tulip. "They're the ones that first told me about Genesis."

I hadn't realized she'd been in the dark all this time about why we were here.

Cass wore a confused expression as well.

"No, I... no, I thought this one was DeBlanc," he said.

"No, that's Fiore," Jesse corrected him before beginning to doubt himself. "Oh, maybe you're right."

"This _is_ Fiore," I piped in. "Tall, gawky one. Remember?"

Maybe Cass had already forgotten, but he was quite vivid in his accounts of the angels when we were back in Annville. I hadn't forgotten the stories he told me starting from that first night I watched him bury their corpses behind the church, and based on the ad from the previous night and the sign on the stage, there was no mistaking the two.

"See?" Jesse said, and Cassidy conceded the point.

Meanwhile, as we spoke, Tulip slinked away silently.

"Where you going?" Jesse asked as she exited.

"Drink. You guys got this." She was gone in an instant.

"You know what, I'm gonna go with her," I told the boys. "Good luck."

"You look after her, all right?" Cassidy requested, and I gave him a little nod before running off after Tulip through the shadowy lobby, past a little wedding chapel, where casually dressed couples waited at tables for their turns to be wed.

“I’m _okay_,” Tulip insisted, turning when I caught up with her. Her posture rigid was rigid and I felt like she was trying to shake me off.

“I’m not saying you’re not,” I said. “I just don’t think you should be alone right now. None of us should be. What happened… that’s not something that any person should have to think about. We gotta stick together.”

Her eyes started to water, but her expression remained steadfast.

“Fine,” she gave in. “But you’re buyin' the drinks.”

We sat at a little red table, illuminated by tiny lamps, and quiet, soulful Indian music played in the background. Tulip ordered herself a whiskey—it was definitely an occasion for something stronger than beer—and she gave me the side-eye when I got myself a ginger ale. Weirdly, it was all I could think about after the incident the night before.

I got us some food, too, because we were both running on empty and I could tell eating was the last thing on Tulip’s mind. The menu was interesting, to say the least, but I supposed they had to appeal somewhat to their East Texas clientele. I placed an order for paneer nuggets (with yogurt, tamarind and mint dipping sauces), pizza samosas and onion bhaji rings. Tulip was barely there, but I was happy to see that when the finger foods arrived, she absentmindedly dug in.

“I’m sorry about your uncle,” I finally said after we’d both had a bit to eat. “I wish I could have met him and thanked him for his help.”

I’d actually spent quite a bit of time in his physical presence, tending to Cassidy at his house after he'd been burned to a crisp. Unfortunately, he'd been passed out, drunk, the entire time. 

“Walter wasn’t much to meet,” Tulip acknowledged with a sad little smile. “I don’t know if he’d spent a minute sober the last 30 years. But I loved him, y’know? He was the last family I had." She paused, and then thought for it a moment, and then under her breath uttered, "That’s the curse of the O’Hares.”

“This curse thing..." I started after a short silence. "Do you believe that's true?” It was a sincere question—with everything I’d seen and heard in the last few weeks, it seemed just as likely as angels and vampires and killer cowboys.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Yeah,” she decided in rapid succession. “Daddy was killed in a shootout with the police. Then I stayed with Jesse and his dad at the church for a little bit before I got shipped off to the foster homes. Didn’t live in any of those for very long, but it didn't take long, neither. I was at the second one when my mom got killed on the job. She worked at the Toadvine and one of her boys got violent, and then she was gone. It’s like we’re doomed. I've never known grandparents, or other aunts or uncles or cousins. I’m surprised Walter lasted this long, to be honest.”

Her voice almost broke there, but no. Tulip was too stubborn to allow herself to get upset. I reached out a hand to touch her on the arm.

“This is gonna sound stupid,” I said, “but let’s get that curse broken.”

She perked up at the thought.

“Alright. How are we gonna do that?"

“Well we’re going to find God, right? He’s gotta be like, the president of all things pertaining to curses. We can make him make things right.”

“Sounds like wishful thinking,” Tulip mused, taking down a big gulp from her glass, “but I’m in. You know, that makes me feel a lot better?”

“Good,” I said with a laugh, and I could already see the gears turning in Tulip’s head.

“But what about you?" Tulip finally asked. “Your mom that killed your real vampire mom? That’s gotta be a lot to think about.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I guess I’m just glad I’ve also got weird gunslingers and angels and God to worry about or I might start to think about it too much.”

“Hey, how do you know all of that stuff?” Tulip asked. “About the two angels and one of them’s here putting on shows?”

“Well, you know how Cass is,” I explained. “He talks. Whenever he and Jess would have dealings with the angels back in Annville, he couldn’t keep any of it to himself. I think he embellishes—he can’t help it—but I’ve got the gist. And then we saw Fiore on TV last night and he knew we had to come here.”

As I rambled, Tulip started to look annoyed.

“Jesse hasn't told you all this stuff, has he?” I asked.

“Not a word,” she said. “I didn’t know about the angels—I wasn't even aware of Genesis until he made me kiss him before we left. And then last night, after learnin' the news, I wind up drivin' us all the way here without any idea why.”

I still didn't know Jesse that well, but that didn't surprise me. However, it wasn't time to make waves. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I’ll ask Cass to have a talk with him,” I promised. “I’m sure he’s not being secretive on purpose. I think he’s just been… occupied.”

“Well I’d appreciate it if, for once, he..."

She stopped abruptly, looking over my shoulder, and soon Jesse sat down in an one of the empty seats between us.

"Am I interrupting anything?" he asked.

She shook her head and scrunched her nose.

"So, your angel gonna help us?" Tulip asked back.

"Cassidy has a plan," he said, turning around to look behind him. "Where the hell did he go?"

Cass wasn't too far behind, showing up a moment later at a jog with a large smile on his face. He looked fairly pleased with himself about something, and had his little pillowcase overnight bag slung over one shoulder.

"Ada, would ya mind lendin' me a hand with sometin'?"

Of course I didn't mind. I excused myself from the group, poured our leftovers into a single paper tray and took them with me at Tulip's insistence, and eagerly followed along.

"So what are we doing?" I asked as we worked back through the casino. "Learn anything valuable?"

"Loads," he said. He found a quiet, dark corner of the place for us to both lean on a counter and chat. "The shooter—he's called the Saint of Killers."

"Shit," I exclaimed.

"You know of 'im?"

"Yeah," I explained. "He's kind of a Texas Boogeyman. Be bad and he'll come scalp you, shoot you. His bullets never miss. Obviously we grow out of believing in him..."

"Kinda dark, don'tcha tink?"

"What in Annville wasn't? Anyway, what's he doing after us?"

"The angels went to Hell to get 'im," he said. "He killed DeBlanc. Like _kill_ killed, permanent like, even though he's an angel. That's his power. And then Fiore—ya were right about his name, by the way—hired him to kill Genesis."

"Which means killing Jesse," I posited. Cass nodded. "And because the Saint is a ruthless bastard, anyone on the trajectory gets dead, too."

"And listen, the way he's been trackin' us? He knows whenever Jesse uses his power. Can home in on it."

"Like the Nazgûl with the One Ring," I mused with terror.

"Holy shit, yes, _exactly_ like that," he agreed emphatically. "I made the same comparison earlier. This is why we work so well together."

I tried to hide an idiot-level grin.

"Anyhow, he didn't know anything about God or where he might be off to," Cass continued. "He said something about how he might help us, but he doesn't give a shit."

"So what's the plan?"

"Well, Jess wanted to beat Fiore up, lure the Saint here and order him call to the ting off. But I didn't like that. I wanna keep that trigger-happy bloody cowboy as far away from us—from you—as possible."

"I'm glad someone's thinking that way," I said. "Thanks, Cass."

"Tink nothin' of it," he said. "But I tink there's sometin' we can do. He said he was unhappy. Miserable bastard looked it, too. So we help him. Show 'im a good time. Convince him to give a shit. And you're the kindest, best person I know and I want you dere with me."

He was so excited to do good that he seemed nervous, and his eagerness was infectious.

"Whatever you need," I said. "But what do we have to do?"

"I've an idea," he said, "but I'd like yer permission. It sort of involves large amounts of a number of elicit substances. For him and me—you don't have to partake. I know it's not ideal for you, but I've got a strong feelin' about it."

I thought about it. He was fully convinced of it, and I believed in it, too.

"If it'll help, you have my permission. I trust you, Cass."

He then gave me a long, focused look.

“And I was wondering, Adelaide..."

He smiled softly as he pulled in close so that only I could hear, reaching into his bag to take out a giant pink wand with a heart at the tip and placing it on the table. Then he grabbed a small onion ring from the tray, before sliding it around the ring finger on my left hand.

"...If you'd do me the pleasure of bein' my wife.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear from anyone reading this! If there's anything in particular that you'd like to see more of, or that you're just wondering about, drop a comment and I'll be sure to get back to you about it :)


	22. “Does the Lady Get a Turn?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ada and Cass have a depressed angel to console

"Yes, Proinsias. Of course yes."

I could have never expected this, but I already knew my answer to his proposal. Not a single cell in my body threatened hesitation. I'd never been more sure than I was at that moment. I wanted nothing more in the world.

He grinned, the joy bursting out of the edges of his smile, and leaned in to grant me the longest, loveliest kiss. I embraced him as our lips touched, charged with a brand new energy full of unknowable potential.

I knew it was impulsive. I knew I couldn't possibly be thinking about this logically. That didn’t matter in the slightest.

And it was funny—I'd never been the girl who fantasized about her wedding. I didn't have Pinterest boards collecting ideas for dresses and venues and decor. I'd been in my previous relationship nearly a decade and the subject had never come close to being broached. I hadn’t seen the appeal, and had resigned happily to the fact it would never happen.

But this, here and now, felt right.

We were positively giddy, but the wedding would have to wait—at least for the estimated two hours and 45 minutes until the ceremony. First came the matter of consoling a depressed angel.

We made our way up to Fiore’s suite on the hotel’s very top level, giggling with elation in the elevator on the way up.

We knocked on the door first. There was no answer. We knocked again, and when we didn't hear a sound inside, Cassidy reached into his coat pocket for a wallet, pulling out a couple of cards.

"Here we go..." he mumbled as he slid one into the key card slot, and slipped the other one between the door and the wall, jiggling them around to try to get in. 

That didn't work in the slightest, and when it didn't, Cassidy shrugged and kicked the door in. Success! 

We moved into the suite, ornately decorated with all kinds of statues and tchotchkes, and Cassidy quickly got to work at the coffee table as I watched on. He removed his trench coat and started unloading materials from his pillowcase, starting by tying on an apron and donning black safety goggles. When he began to lay out the rest onto the room's coffee table, I couldn't believe my eyes.

He had half a dozen little rolled up baggies of dark brown heroine, a shallow metal bowl, which was soon sprinkled with rock cocaine, one of those little lemon-shaped bottles full of juice, Q-tips, sealed syringes and a blowtorch for good measure. Before I knew it, he also had water boiling over a burner—it had to be mineral water, he insisted, because you can't trust tap—as he eagerly awaited Fiore's arrival. 

When he finally entered the room, he looked sullen, and donned an irritated expression at the sight of his busted door. He was still wearing his ornate Ganesh outfit, but his face was free of the thickly painted makeup that helped him stand out on stage.

There was nothing ethereal or otherworldly about him, and yet something about him did feel slightly inhuman.

"There you are," Cassidy said as Fiore walked in, raising his blowtorch. "Let's talk."

Fiore eyed us both cautiously.

"What's she doing here?" Fiore asked in Londoner’s accent, a petulant edge to his voice.

"I told you about Ada," Cass answered happily. "We're engaged."

"Oh," Fiore said, looking utterly deflated. "What do you want?”

I knew Cass had thought that my presence would somehow improve Fiore’s spirits. Out of the gate, it didn’t seem to be working.

"We've brought you a little sometin'," Cass said, spreading his arms to flaunt what he'd been preparing. "Tink of it as our bachelor-stroke-bachelorette party. We'd like ya to join us."

"Fine," Fiore sighed, sitting down at the sofa, an unamused look on his face. Cass took that as a signal for us to sit beside him, and for him to continue his work, mixing a little bit of everything into a dangerous-looking concoction.

"I know what you're doing," Fiore whined, his expression resembling a deer staring down oncoming traffic

"What?" Cassidy asked. "Have you done this before?"

"No," Fiore said. He sounded slightly hurt. "You want me to change my mind about helping you, and I'm not going to."

"Well, but hang on a minute," Cass stammered, practically offended as he pulled the ends off the cotton buds and rolled them into a larger ball. "I'm not here to change anybody's mind about anything, alright?"

Fiore eyed him wearily, but he was listening.

"Now, look, we're mates," Cassidy continued, "and I noticed you were looking down. I thought to myself, I thought, 'My man Fiore, he looks down. We should go and cheer him up. That's what we should do.' And there's nothin' like a bit of speedball to turn your whole day around."

He took a syringe, ripped off its protective lid with his mouth and spit it across the room as he rose.

Fiore asserted he had to be onstage in a few hours, and that he wanted to be lucid when he did. As Cass loaded up the needle with the mixture, sucking it up through the cotton, spraying out a bit and flicking the glass to let out any air bubbles, Cass promised Fiore would be.

While Fiore was hesitant, he did eventually stick out an arm for Cassidy's injection. Cass shook his head.

"No, no, no, no, no, my friend," Cass said. "First time means mainline, all right?"

He instead insisted on having Fiore expose his neck before sticking the needle into one of the bulging veins there. Seemed like a bad idea to me, but Cass was the expert.

"Here it is, mate," he said warmly in the tone of a friendly doctor inoculating a small child. "Nice, huh?"

Fiore didn't move a muscle. This stuff worked _fast_. He seemed completely gone.

And then an almost supernatural rush of sound blew through the hotel room, and a bright flash came from a hallway. A moment later, Fiore stepped out of the bathroom, dressed identically to the dead man who now sat beside us on the couch.

Ah. I could see why his show was such a hit.

"Okay, less heroin," Cass noted to himself as he got back to work.

"_Cassidy_," I shot him a stern look.

"Oh right," he said, apologetic. "I'm sorry, mate. I'll be more careful this time."

"Thanks," Fiore said, somewhat sarcastically. Something in his tone said he didn't care. What did dying matter, anyway, if he’d be back in exactly the same situation a minute later?

I helped Cass drag the body into the corner—now _that_ was a new experience—and for the second round, Cassidy made sure to be more mindful, though I don’t know if it was for Fiore or for me. I urged him to try the arm, and this time it didn't kill the poor guy. Fiore also told us not to worry about the corpse, that they had a spot in the basement to collect and tidily dispose of them. I shivered at the thought.

Cassidy opened a new needle and injected himself next. Of course this wasn't how I'd choose to spend the hours leading up to my wedding, but my curiosity overtook any reservations I was having.

The drugs were already starting to take effect on Fiore. He sat straight up, bursting with merry energy. It was only about 30 seconds after that that his body relaxed and he slumped back a little on the couch.

"Ha," he smiled to himself, something novel coming over him. "I don't hate myself. I’m not empty. This is new."

"What did I tell ya?" Cassidy asked. I studied his demeanor, and while he seemed quite relaxed, nothing much else had changed about him. He wasn't kidding about his high tolerance. I wondered what that must be like.

"Does the lady get a turn?" Fiore asked, gesturing to me like it was the chivalrous thing to do.

"No, she doesn't," Cass explained. "She's like, straight edge, right? You've gotta respect people's religious principles. But as an angel, I'm sure ya know dat."

"That I do, my friend," Fiore laughed. I'm not sure his words made any sense, but Cassidy was speaking Fiore's language now. He didn't seem to have a care in the world. Meanwhile, I felt reassured that there was no pressure to do anything I wouldn’t be comfortable with.

Then Fiore suddenly snapped to attention.****

"I wanna play," he said. "Do you two want to play?"

"I'm down," Cass said, and then he looked over at me. It was strange, but I couldn't resist the offer.

"Count me in," I said, and Fiore took running across the room, leaping over the furniture away from us.

I shrugged at Cassidy and then we bolted off after him. We leapt over the sofa, across the four post bed covered in red silk sheets, and kicked and rolled around on giant beach balls that had seemed to appear out of thin air.

I started to feel something too—blissful, unbothered and free. Maybe it was not caring whether I looked like an idiot, or the knowledge that very soon, I’d be married to my soulmate. Maybe it was some kind of contact high. I just didn't remember the last time I had experienced this much unbridled fun over something that, to be honest, as quite stupid. I felt my heart swell for Cassidy, and that I was bonded to Fiore, like I'd known him for years.

It wasn't just a spark of vitality and delirium either. We felt creative, too. When Fiore shouted out that we should build a fort, we were all titillated by the idea and pitched in to make it epic.

Cass seemed to lose and gain clothing at random every time I looked away from him. Now he was shirtless. Now, he was fully dressed and also wearing Fiore’s turban. Then he was in only his undershirt. He was pure beauty any which way I looked at him, and I took his changing states as the way things simply were.

"I wish DeBlanc was here to see this!" Fiore exclaimed at one point, bursting at the seams with vitality. He didn't seem sad or regretful. He was just joyful, and that joy brought back the memory of his friend.

"Sounds like he was important to you,” I said. Normally, that statement would have felt off limits, but I wasn’t exactly in my right mind, and Fiore was in exactly the right place to handle it.

"DeBlanc and I had a legendary friendship," he shouted happily at us, gesticulating wildly as he did. "Legendary. He'd scream at me sometimes, sure, but I'd scream right back at him. It was just that kind of thing, you know?"

Cass and I both nodded, encouraging him. He rambled but the love there was clear.

"He'd do something, and then I'd do something in response and so on. A friendship like that? I don't how to describe it."

"Was it legendary?" Cass suggested, taking a puff from a joint he'd conjured from somewhere. 

"Yes," Fiore answered, like it was a revelation. "Exactly. Legendary."

Cass paused for a second before asking his next question.

"How was the sex?" he wondered aloud.

Fiore seemed to pause too long before asking a question of his own.

"What you mean?" he asked. That silence told Cass everything he needed to know.

"Never mind," he said. "More speedball?"

Fiore happily accepted the offer. Cass cooked up another round with the help of his blowtorch, and this time, the boys shared from Cassidy's small glass pipe, blowing giant white vapor clouds into the room.

Fiore's euphoria led to more games. Frisbee. Paper airplanes. Putt-putt. Basketball. The boys chugged bottles of champagne as we frolicked. Each activity was enhanced, somehow. Every little thing was hilariously joyous—trivial but also deeply important.

I knew in my heart that my brain actually had no idea what it was like to be high on this stuff. Whatever it was making me feel now was an invention of my own making, but I relished in it.

Of the three of us, Cass seemed the most even-headed and sober. Perhaps he wasn't, but even as I got sidetracked, I got the sense that he hasn't lost sight of our goal.

"So the Saint can kill angels, right?" he asked in one of the quiet moments as we all rested in a pile on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I didn't recognize until later that he was deftly gaining intel and strengthening a kinship all at once.

"He can kill anyone," Fiore answered, like an excited kindergartner with the answer to the question on the board. "He killed DeBlanc."

"The Saint of Killers possesses the power to kill any being of Earth, heaven and hell," I quoted from the legends.

Fiore nodded like it was ancient wisdom.

"All right, so he is not to be fucked with," Cass continued. "_But_—but—but if angels, if they live in heaven, where do dead angels go?"

Fiore breathed deep, considering it.

"That's the question, isn't it?" he finally responded, quite seriously despite everything.

"Yes, it is," Cass said. One second later, a scarlet pillow struck him upside the head. He looked with shock at Fiore, who'd hit him with the pillow, but the expression quickly changed to delight as he grabbed a pillow of his own and started smacking Fiore silly with it.

When Fiore swung his pillow at me, I felt honored to be included, like I was part of the inner circle. Soon, it was just a flurry of pillows softly flying over the sound of hysterical laughter.

And then, something shifted. Cassidy has seized the advantage in their pillow war and was leaning over Fiore, and they were both staring into each other. Their gazes were piercing and powerful.

In that moment, Cass looked over at me a gentle concern in his eyes, as if he needed permission to do what came next. It didn't need to be spoken. I smiled at him softly in response. _Whatever you need to do, I trust you_. I nodded silently, and he returned a nod, suddenly unburdened.

He then leaned further forward to press his lips passionately against Fiore's.

The angel didn't hesitate for a moment, kissing him back hard, hungrily pressing his tongue into Cassidy's mouth. His hands reached for Cassidy's ass, pulling him in to grind against him. They pressed together for a moment before the kiss ended, and Cass touched his forehead to Fiore's.

"I tink making love would do you a world of good," Cassidy murmured gently.

"I... I've made love plenty of times," Fiore stammered.

"But not like this," Cass said. "Not with someone who cares about you. Not since DeBlanc, right?"

That seemed to click.

"But what about her?" Fiore asked. "Your fiancée’s supposed to just sit there and watch?"

"I don't see why not," I said, trying to sound nonchalant, and failing. I wasn't upset or jealous. Its was an eager, curious hunger. This love that Cassidy had in his heart made me love him even more deeply, and I yearned to see its physical manifestation.

"In that case," Fiore said, beginning to undress, "yes, I'd very much like it if you'd make love to me."

Cass excused himself and disappeared into the bathroom for just a moment as I leaned back against a tall stack of pillows, readying myself to enjoy the show. Fiore was now completely nude. His long body was even taller than Cassidy's, and quite lean, and he was quite well-endowed and clearly stimulated.

"You two do this kind of thing much?" Fiore asked me with his hands resting on his belly, like he was asking about the weather.

"Not at all," I shook my head, but then I remembered. "Well, there was one incident with our friend Tulip..."

Maybe a pattern was beginning to develop here.

"You don't have to join, you know."

"I wasn't planning on it," I told him.

"Well, you're at least going to pleasure yourself?"

What a question.

"Would... that be alright with you?" I asked.

"I'll be offended if you didn't, actually," he said.

Well that settled that.

Cassidy returned not a moment too soon with a bottle of lube and a condom. He tossed them onto the bed as he disrobed, climbing atop Fiore and kissing him down the neck as he began to gently play with his penis, barely touching it with his fingertips, and Fiore let out a few pleasured gasps.

He whispered something in Fiore's ear, that made him grow excited and urgently nod yes. He then uttered something else, getting the same eager response.

Then Cass shuffled back a little on the bed and lowered himself, wrapping his lips around Fiore's large cock, his hands on the angel's thighs as he pressed down and took him deep into his throat, moaning contentedly, enjoying every moment of the process. This was a skill I hadn't had the opportunity to see demonstrated before, and it took me aback.

Fiore groaned, reaching one hand out to the back of Cassidy's head and following Cass's movements as he bobbed on and off of his shaft. To my surprise, Fiore reached the other hand out toward me. I instinctively took it with my left hand, and then he squeezed it gently with every magical surge of pleasure then pulsed through him.

And then I experienced a new type of envy, not because the man I loved could give such pleasure to another, but because I didn't have a cock of my own for him to deepthroat. I wished I could inhabit Fiore then just for a moment, and found my hand gliding under my clothes, into my panties and pressing my clit with my middle finger in time with Cassidy's every movement, imagining Fiore's cock as my own.

The visual was almost too much, and when I came quietly under my breath less than a minute later, the feeling was stunted, as if the sensation was too much at once and hadn't had the time to properly build. Before Fiore could, I climaxed two more times, panting gently and overwhelmed by this stimulation. When Fiore did reach orgasm, he shouted his ecstasy, squeezing my hand hard, as if to share, and Cassidy didn't let up until his very last drop was extracted.

When Cass finally pulled back his lips, he retreated slightly, balancing on his knees, grabbing a brilliant red pillow to place under Fiore’s ass, and then he took Fiore's long legs and rested them against his chest, the knees resting over Cass's shoulders. As he reached for the condom and lube, Fiore spoke.

"Does the lady get a turn?" he repeated, only this time, neither of us has any objections.

Cass turned to me with a mischievous smile.

"How 'bout it?" he asked me.

"Yes sir," I happily complied, throwing off my pajamas as Cassidy lay back on the bed, his thick cock standing straight up with excitement.

"I wan'tcha to ride me, Adelaide," he growled seductively and I wanted nothing more. I'd never been on top, and the fact we had an audience made the momentous occasion even more of a thrill.

I positioned myself above him, using my hand to slide his cock into my wet and ready pussy, and instantly gasped as his thick sensation filled me. I placed my hands on his shoulders, slightly unsure as I moved my hips to glide on and off of him, the ecstatic gratification enhanced by the pleasured expressions that crossed his face with every sway. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him, and he didn't close his eyes for an instant as we stared, connecting in the intensity of the moment.

Soon I found my stride, leaning over him so I could tease him with the occasional peck of the lips, my speed quickening, filling me inside and hitting a spot that made the tension grow in my loins. Cass started to buck a little underneath me, so that every rough thrust was doubly sweet. We were one mind now, bouncing and throbbing and moaning. I understood his beauty was something supernatural, too much to selfishly keep all to myself. I remembered our observer and returned his small favor, reaching out for his hand, offering a tiny piece of the massive pleasure I felt with Cass. I noticed that he was staring at my chest, and I didn't mind in the slightest.

It was then that Cassidy asked me to lean down all the way against him. I followed his word, resting my head across the perfect tuft of hair on his chest. He positioned one hand between us to masterfully manipulate my clit as he fucked me hard from below, each stroke sending me into a shudder and making me moan out loud with glee. God, he felt good, better than good, and I gyrated against him, getting as much contact as I could. Then I felt that mighty familiar swell inside me.

"Oh Cass, I'm gonna cum, please don't stop," I shouted and he listened, rubbing me harder, pressing inside and outside me with all his strength and I came, the powerful sensation making me writhe on top of him,my insides clenching against his cock so I could feel all of him at once. I hadn’t felt anything like this before, and its lasting power made me lightheaded but content. I was still holding onto Fiore, gripping his hand harder with every moment, and he never recoiled or threatened to let go.

Next it was Cassidy's turn, and I sat back upright to ride him again, now feeling more confident in my ability. He rested and smiled stupidly with his little faces as I worked him back and forth, and I took one of his hands and placed it on my chest. He cupped my breasts gently and then I saw a change in his expression, now biting his lip in ecstasy. But it was time to try something different. Without dismounting, and only briefly letting go of Fiore’s hand as I changed positions, I turned around on top of Cass, now riding him in the reversed position.

"I can't get enough of this cock," I muttered as I took it, turning my head back to watch him. "God, I love fucking you."

Cass shot me a toothy grin. He loved it.

"Ooh, I want you to fuck me as hard as you can," I added, and he rose, still inside me, and I assumed a position on my hands and knees as he leaned over me and gave me all he could from behind. His speed and ferocity made me yell out in delight as he held my shoulders and used the weight of my whole body to ram me over his cock over and over. Nothing could beat this pure, full sensation, and I didn't hold back any of it. Then Cass warned me he was going to cum, and I braced for those final delicious pumps as he made the most beautiful groaning sound and filled me.

Afterward, I collapsed on the bed and watched him glisten and grin at me, returning Cass to the angel.

"I Iove you, Cassidy," I said.

"And I love you, Ada," he replied with a smile.

I was exhausted, but knew Cass was only getting started.

He laid down next to Fiore and wrapped an arm around him, kissing him again across the shoulder.

"I'm gonna need a few minutes before we go," he said, sounding apologetic. "Is there anytin' else you'd like while we wait?"

Fiore thought about it.

"Whatever Ada would like," he smiled, throwing off to me.

I shook my head. "Unlike you two, I'm a mere mortal. I'm spent."

"We can just chill out, yeah?" Cass suggested. "If ya'd like, Ada, you can rest with us."

That actually sounded nice.

Cass scooted back and I rested between them, the middle spoon in a pile of three naked bodies, with Fiore being the littlest and Cass the biggest.

I wasn't attracted to the angel, and I certainly didn't want to sleep with him, but I was surprised how comfortable and right this felt, even with my bare breasts pressed to his back and my arms wrapped around him. He was warm and content, and Cassidy's presence made me feel secure in whatever this was. I could have fallen asleep here. I closed my eyes and basked in it.

Not more than five minutes could have passed before I felt a small, hard pressure at my back.

"Do vampires have some kind of paranormally reduced refectory period or what?" I joked.

He chuckled.

"It's a gift o' me youth," he joked, nibbling my ear.

"And how old were you, exactly, when you became a vampire?"

"16," he answered.

I twisted my neck around to look at him.

"You? 16?" I asked. I didn't mean to be offensive. It's just that he looked twice that age, at least.

"I've lived a hard life, all right?" he responded. He seemed fully aware how improbable it sounded. "I was already a very _mature _16 when I got turned, 'n I'm sure the extra 103 years added a little something here and there."

"They better have," I joked. "I'm not marrying a 16-year-old."

"Even when that 16-year-old looks like this?" he asked, gesturing to his lean, tattooed body with the flourish of a hand.

"Well you got me there," I conceded with a smirk.

By then, Cassidy was ready again. As I got back up to resume my position to watch from the head of the bed, Fiore spoke to me.

"Ada," he said, carefully, "would it be alright if you stayed here?"

This seemed important to him, and I was happy to grant his request. I rested my head against his chest, able to hear the quickening of his heartbeat as Cass returned to his position, again propping Fiore's legs against his chest, as he finally ripped open the condom wrapper, carefully rolled it on and liberally applied the cushy lubricant to his shaft. With the extra on his hand, he gently applied some to Fiore's hole, causing him to gasp inaudibly at the sensation. I only could notice because I was so close to him.

"Oh, you're ready," Cass smiled, and Fiore nodded, then took a deep, lung-filling breath.

Cass used his hand to help guide his length deep into Fiore, and Fiore let out a large moan as he accepted him.

"That alright?" Cass asked softly.

"Yeah," Fiore groaned. "You don't have to be gentle with me."

"Not yer first rodeo," Cass said, reversing his thrust, pulling back just a little before ramming back into him causing them both to moan. "I get it. But there's sometin' to be said about takin' tings slow."

He leaned his upper body over the angel's, bending down first to kiss me gently from my resting place on Fiore’s chest, than arching up to do the same with Fiore. I decided to move slightly, still sidling next to Fiore, but making room for Cass to dedicate his attention to him. Fiore took my hand again.

"Don't you dare... ohhh yes... go anywhere," he said, and he looked almost frightened at the thought.

"Shhh, I won't," I assured him, and held our clasped hands to my warm chest.

Cass rested all the way down on him now, his head nestled in Fiore's neck, remaining deep inside him as he thrust gently but rhythmically into him. He arched his belly to reach for Fiore's dick, stroking him in rhythm with his pulses. Fiore moaned contentedly and Cass lifted his head to smile at him.

He was getting Fiore exactly where he liked it, and it was time to pick up the pace. He continued working the angel's manhood as he reeled his own hips back, revealing most of his rock hard cock before he pressed it back into Fiore's tight ass, causing him to call out.

"Oh you like dat?" Cass teased him, and gave him another one, then another as he continued to massage Fiore's length.

"Oh yeah," he cried, breathing deep with each hard rocking of his body. "Just... ohhh... don't stop."

"How about this?" he asked, and his speed quickened, and his pulses were even stronger. He jerked him off with the same aggression.

All Fiore could do now is groan and nod quickly, until he said something that sounded like "cumming." At this, Cass surprised Fiore by pulling out and beginning to discard his condom.

"What are you doing?" Fiore asked, the annoyance clear in his voice.

"You'll see," Cass grinned.

He pressed his shaft up against Fiore’s, base to base, and then jerked them off together in unison, never breaking eye contact as he did. Their connection was intense and profound and their rising groans both grew together as they both came closer to the peak. Finally, they each grunted, hard and visceral, their cum spraying out as it mingled over Fiore's lower half and Cass's belly.

They panted in silence before they both laughed at the mess they'd made, their spirits high and their hearts bright.

"We should clean up," Cass commented.

"Quick rinse, then hot tub?" Fiore offered, still floating on air. Based on his smile, that sounded good to Cass.

"Don't mind if I do," he replied

Fiore led the way by stomping off to the bathroom.

"And you're coming too, little missy," he added with authority.

"Yessir," I said, trying not to sound sarcastic. I appreciated that he was actually taking charge.

The time in the shower was brief, its primary function to wash away the sexual fluids that riddled all three of us. By the time we approached the hot tub, illuminated by color-changing neon lights, we were all squeaky clean. Fiore had a spare pair of trunks for Cass to wear, while I opted to bathe in the nude.

But before we did take a dip, Fiore wanted to introduce us to his huge case full of Archie comics from the ‘40s through the ‘90s, all originals. They were his pride and joy, and it terrified me that he wanted us to read them in the tub, where they could be exposed to many means of destruction.

The men had no hesitations about grabbing the books and stepping into the tub with them, and after asking too many times if it was really okay, I finally grabbed one and did everything I could to keep it clear out of the water, finding my place sitting between Cassidy and Fiore. The water was wonderfully hot and relaxing and full of bubbles, though the jets mostly hit my companions. Most hot tubs weren’t exactly built for three.

In the book, Reggie had bet Jughead that he couldn't go a week without eating hamburgers. To his own surprise, Jughead managed it, only later discovering he'd unknowingly been sleepwalking to Pop's Choc’klit Shoppe every night to get his fill. This was exactly my kind of story. While Cass and Fiore both sipped champagne out of fluted glasses and argued whether Archie should be with Betty or Veronica—“Why not both?” I had chimed in—I always gravitated to the stories concerned with Jughead's relationship with food.

"Did you happen to have any more of that speedball at the ready?" Fiore asked after a bit of this, getting a little antsy.

"Sorry, mate," Cass said, "but that was the last of that. Not if you wanna do yer show right. Well this do?"

He reached over the side of the jacuzzi to grab a hand mirror that already conveniently had several lines of cocaine spread across it—where had that come from?—and Fiore seemed satisfied, snorting it up eagerly.

"Did you wanna dance?" Fiore asked once the mirror was spotless.

"I'd love to," Cassidy said, gesturing to me to collect the comics, which I did as carefully as possible before placing them in a stack far from the tub. When I returned, they were mostly swinging their arms and grooving their bodies to unheard music, covered in suds from the tub. It all seemed a bit silly, but it was sweet, too.

Fiore glanced over at me, making a gesture to join in.

"I don't dance," I said, firmly. This had been a wild day, but I had to draw the line _somewhere. _

"Suit yourself," he said, and continued gyrating with Cass. I relaxed and watched them make the most of this bizarre, unique moment and I loved them both.

Then Fiore leaned in for an embrace, closing his eyes and pulling Cass in tight. They breathed deeply and contentedly.

Cass shot me a look and crooked his finger at me, and I rose to join them. At first, I tentatively wrapped my arms around both of them, but then they made way for me, placing me at the center of their embrace. I felt so warm and cared for, my heart swelling in my chest, the elated ecstasy I'd felt for two straight hours making way for something more calm and yet more real.

I didn't want it to end, but when it did, we wound up in cloth robes, my hair in a towel wrap, within the legendary pillow fort we'd built together. Fiore called room service to order three expensive banana splits.

Cassidy took the moment to fill Fiore in on a number of his conspiracy theories, to which Fiore listened with rapt attention. I was always grateful that they were all somehow short of harmful. As long as he wasn't anti-vaccination or pro-flat Earth, and he didn't think there moon landing was a hoax, we were alright. In fact, Cassidy believed we'd been to the moon twice as many times as we'd admitted, keeping the research and development we do there on the dark side under wraps. He called it area 53. It actually kind of made sense. Plus, if he did ever start spouting some nonsense with dubious origins, I know he'd listen to my rational approach with the facts. Until then, I relished in allowing him to speak his ridiculous mind.

"They were _never_ called the Berenstain Bears, and both you and _you_ and I know it," Cassidy rattled off on the latest thing that was bothering him.

"You're right," Fiore chimed in. "It was Berenstein, always. I recall the song."

"And what do you think happened there?" I asked him, genuinely curious. This was one that had confounded me, too.

"Have ya heard of the multiverse theory?" Cass asked.

"Yeah," Fiore answered, in awe.

"Well, at some point in the last three decades, we started mergin' with a basically identical universe. It took its time, so the transition was different for everybody, and when it all resolved itself, that was one o' the differences that stuck out."

Fiore's mind was just about blown, and I was nearly there with him, hushing the skeptic in me. However unlikely, it didn't really make a difference.

Then there was a knock at the door, and Cassidy volunteered to collect our ice cream.

As he rose, Fiore leaned toward me.

"Can I ask you a question," he wondered.

"Of course you can."

"How did you get that enormous bruise?"

I'd nearly forgotten about it somehow. Earlier, Fiore hadn't been ogling my breasts. He was commiserating with my pain.

"That was actually your buddy, the Saint of Killers, I explained, and that upset him.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "What happened? How did you survive?"

I explained that he hadn't shot me directly, that I'd been struck by a heavy car door ripped off its hinges by one of the Saint's bullets. That struck a cord with him, and he got quiet.

“That's... I’ll handle it," was all he said, and I rested assured that he would.

"I truly appreciate that," I thanked him. "Cassidy will, too."

"He's a very special person, isn't he?" Fiore thought aloud.

"The most special I've ever met," I said.

"You're a very lucky girl," he added.

I couldn't help but agree.

Then Cass returned, barely able to hold the three huge, freezing bowls of ice cream, and divided them up among us. As we dug in, me eating slowly to avoid brain freeze, Cassidy changed the subject to baby foreskins for the second time in a week. He told Fiore about America's (undoubtedly ridiculously inflated) 70 million annual circumcisions, and how they were being collected in some kind of financial ploy.

Fiore was, again, in awe of that number.

"What do you think they're doing with 'em?" he asked.

"I don't know," Cass replied. "Making money, putting them into whatever they feel like."

"Like what?" Fiore simply had to know.

"I don't know," Cassidy said again. "Like, bed linens and lawn furniture. Food." Cassidy paused briefly, wondering if he should say what was on his mind before he came out with it. "Could be a shite-load of foreskin in this here ice cream for all we know."

Then without missing a beat, Fiore gently said, "Well, it would explain the creamy."

Fiore laughed softly, but I absolutely lost it. As Cass cackled and snorted, I watched Fiore gaze at Cass and I saw on his face the look of true love. He exemplified what I felt every day, like a love song playing on a loop at full blast in your head, your heart so full it overflows. I felt very protective of him in that moment. Here was someone else touched by Cassidy's soul, and that wasn't something to be wasted.

"'The creamy,'" Cass repeated, his face contorted in disgust. "Gross." But not gross enough to stop shoveling ice cream down his throat.

"Thanks," Fiore replied proudly.

Then the peace of the moment was shattered by reality as a loud buzzing noise filled the room. Cass rose, digging into his bag to retrieve the pink wedding pager. It was our turn.

"Sorry to break up the fun," Cass said, "but we have a weddin' ta tend to."

Fiore looked devastated at the idea of this ending. That pained me.

"You could come with us?” I invited him.

"Would you like to be my best man?" Cass added, thinking fast.

"Yes," Fiore nodded emphatically, "I would like that very much," and the three of us got dressed and headed downstairs to be wed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank you all enough for your support with this story! If you have any comments at all (or would love to see more of anything) please drop me a line and I'll get back to you!


	23. Vows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ada becomes Mrs. Cassidy

From there, everything happened so fast it barely felt I had time to take in in. The workers at the wedding chapel, donning headsets and dressed in lavish formal saris, funneled us through the process with haste.

First, came the paperwork—and the rude awakening that a spur-of-the-moment wedding wouldn’t be as straightforward as we'd anticipated.

"Do you have your wedding license?" asked the woman at the counter.

We didn’t. In fact, wee had no clue that might be something we'd need. She sighed loudly.

"Is that going to be a problem?" I asked in return. I felt slightly stupid, and yet it did nothing to hamper my feeling that this _had _to happen. We were practically shaking from the excitement of it all.

"Yeah," she said with a sarcastic tone.

“Look, if I can pull any strings, here…” Fiore butted in, and only then did the woman recognize him. He looked quite different in slacks and a button-up shirt, without a face full of colorful makeup. I appreciated that he wasn’t drawing a crowd. It may have been my day to be the bride, but that did’t mean I wanted a bunch of strangers gawking at me. The more intimate, the better.

“Oh, Ganesh! I didn’t even see you there,” she rushed, flustered. “Uh, look. You've got three options here. _Lucky_ you. First, you can have a standard commitment ceremony. It's not a legally binding marriage, but if you that doesn’t matter to you, it’s the cheapest and easiest. Not to mention the most legal.”

"I tink I speak fer the bot' of us when I say we want the real deal," Cass asserted, looking at me gently. I nodded in agreement.

This time when the woman spoke, she did so in hushed tones.

"Well, then you have a fully legal route and the… _creative _route,” she explained.

We were listening.

“So you can go to the county clerk's office tomorrow morning—it opens at 9—and get your license like you were supposed to."

That wouldn't work. We’d probably be taking off before nightfall.

"And the other option?" Cass asked.

The woman leaned in close, like this was a big secret.

“That option is, for $250 extra, we can secure you a confidential marriage license. They're not usually an option in Texas, but we're not _technically_ on Texas land. We have a system."

Confidential? That sounded stealthy, like something out of an espionage thriller. It intrigued me, despite adding heavily to the reasonable $149 price tag of the ceremony we'd picked out.

"And what does that mean, exactly?" I asked.

"It means you sign all of our paperwork here, and our guy will put together everything you need."

"What's the catch?" Cass asked, sensing it sounded a little too good to be true.

"Only you two will be able to get copies of the license if you need them in the future," she explained. "And the official date on your papers will be _tomorrow _because we can't get them today, and this isn't exactly the right order to do things, if you catch my drift."

"We understand completely," I said as Cass produced a series of crisp $100 bills. It didn't _seem_ that we were getting scammed. Even if we were—well, fuck it. We were getting married!

The woman took our drivers licenses—I noticed that Cass's Nevada-issued ID listed his name as Proinsias Cassidy II and listed his birth year as 1989, which made me chuckle—and had us fill out a _lot _of forms. My hands trembled slightly as I realized the officialness of it all.

And then came something that hadn’t even crossed my mind. The paperwork asked if I'd be changing my name. And, yeah. Of _course _I would.

Adelaide Cassidy. In my youth, I would have written the name a thousand times in my diaries and notebooks, as if putting the idea out into the world enough times could make it reality. I read it aloud in my head for the first time and it was so right. _Adelaide Cassidy_. That had a ring to it.

Speaking of rings, one sheet of paper was dedicated to the specifics of the ceremony. We filled in our names, the number of guests and how long we’d been together like some kind of martial mad libs. We didn’t have rings to exchange, and we didn’t want it to be religious in nature. No mentions of the lord, or anointing with ashes, thank you very much. Where did we want our marriage license sent? Cass had an address in Louisiana that he said would be perfect.

Honestly, it felt like a lot to sort through when all I wanted was to be married already, but I had to consider the alternative—spending months searching for the perfect dress, researching venues, planning a ceremony, and sending invites to unwanted guests, no doubt spending thousands along the way. None of that appealed to me in the slightest, so I could absolutely suck it up to fill this out.

The wedding chapel itself wasn't anything wild or elaborate, but we didn't need much. The hotel architecture in red and cream with green and gold accents lent the space a unique sense of place. we’d never forget it. This was so exciting, and everything seemed to be working out, despite our lack of preparation.

It felt just right, somehow. Here I was in my pajamas, next to Cassidy's brilliant mess if an outfit that didn't even cover his stomach and included layered bottoms. The hosts didn’t look twice at what we were wearing, and a few glances around revealed we honestly weren't the worst-dressed couple here.

Maybe Jesse and Tulip should be here with us, too, but something about that didn’t sit quite right with either of us. After all, they were most likely preoccupied with each other at the moment.

It would have been nice to share our most with Tulip as a witness, but Jesse, I could take or leave.

Plus, we had Fiore with us. We still wanted to make him feel special. Elite, maybe. And their presence could have diminished that.

And then it was time to do the deed. We were escorted to the wedding area, through hordes of tourists and under a white trellis archway covered in string lights and fake leaves to a gathering area with chairs set up to accommodate about 50. Behind us, a video played of camels crossing a desert vista at sunset, approaching a building that might have been the Taj Mahal. The screen was framed by a red curtain, and a live band, led by a sitar player, set the stage with hypnotic music.

Big rope necklaces were draped over our necks as Fiore watched us with a smile, and Cassidy took my hands, delicately holding up my outstretched hands. I couldn't help but stare into his gorgeous, gleeful face. That devilish smile. Those sparkling eyes. It was a dream I'd be happy never to wake from.

"Dear friend," the minister began, directing his speech at our lone witness. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Ada and Cassidy..."

The speech, however generic, however many times I'd heard similar words on TV or at the weddings of acquaintances, hit me like a freight train, forcing powerful emotions to rise up in my chest. My eyes were already welling with tears, and seeing Cass have the same reaction made them even harder to hold back.

It spoke of the time we’d spent together, however short, and how in that time we’d changed, and grown together as a whole stronger than its parts. Moving forward, we’d need to think not as individuals, but as a unit responsible for the safety, care and love of the other. After all, this union had started well before our wedding day. The minister couldn’t have known about our fateful meeting that sweltering day at church, but his words brought me back there. That truly was where all of this had begun.

All it took to make this official, he continued, was a ceremony and our signatures, but that wouldn’t be what would make this _work_. No—that would require a lifetime, perhaps more than a typical lifetime, I realized, of love for each other, and commitment to ourselves and everything we represented. Today wasn't about getting our names on a fancy piece of paper. It was about declaring that sense of undying love to the world, and to each other in a way more meaningful than sweet promises during quiet moments could. They were bold words, maybe, but I had no doubt in my mind that we had everything we needed to make exactly that happen.

Then, the man did something I didn’t expect. He asked us if we had any words to share with each other. Neither of us had prepared anything, and I tensed up at the thought, but Cassidy bravely spoke without hesitation.

“Ada," he began, "when I first landed in Annville, I had this feelin' inside me, like I was headin' into sometin’. Maybe sometin’ bigger than meself, sometin' that really mattered. And then I saw you in that church and... It wasn't just, here's this beautiful girl, I should get to know her. I just, I knew that wouldn't be the last I saw of ya, and sure enough, the next day, there ya were in the stairway. That's when I knew sometin’ was up. A culmination of sometin’, bringin’ us together. I wasn't alone in feelin’ what I was feelin.’ And I don’t know how, you're also this brilliant, kind, loving person on top of all that. I'm a real old man—inside, y’know—and I tought I'd experienced it all... But I was dead wrong. Since I've met ya, everytin’s been new, when I didn’t tink that was possible. I... I know I'm ramblin', but you're the best person I’ve ever known, and when I'm wit ya, I know it's where I'm meant to be. I love you, Adelaide, and I will to the end of time.”

He was smiling and his voice remained steady, but thick tears were streaming from his eyes. I couldn't hold back my own soft sobs.

How in the world could I follow that up? _How_? I took a deep breath, collecting up as much air as I could in my lungs in between the gasps, and I did my damnedest to speak from the very heart.

"Cass," I declared, "before I met you, I had no idea what richness was missing in my life. I was coasting along just... existing. And I could have lived the rest of my life that way, oblivious to this incredible thing, full of possibility. Since I've met you my life has become this adventure every single day. You've helped me discover myself and what I’m capable of and I'm thankful every single day for every turn in my life that led me to you. I love you so much and all I can think about is how badly I want to start building my future with you."

I knew I was rushing the words, but I had to get then all out before I lost them. I'd never felt so strongly about anything and I didn't want to lose a single feeling as the words ran through my consciousness. His lip quivered as I spoke, and with my truth out, I felt I'd succeeded.

The minister continued, asking Cassidy if he'd take me to be his wife, to have and hold, love and cherish, in sickness and in health. His confident, loving declaration of "I do," sent warm tingles down my spine. I was asked those same questions next, and my reply was the same, the words feeling powerful as they rolled between my lips.

"By the power vested in me by the Mumbai Sky Tower, I now pronounce you man and wife," he said. "You may kiss the bride."

Cassidy's lips pressed against mine sweetly, and the kiss was brief but nearly as magical as our first, blood rushing to my head and making my life spin. Fiore cheered for us when the kiss was over, and then there we were. Husband and wife.

"Friend," the minister announced, "I present to you for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Cassidy."

Cass was glowing, his smile wide and his cheeks flushed, his eyes still red with tears, and I felt that I must have looked the same way.

"To the young couple," Fiore cheered, raising a glass of champagne. And we followed him out, eager to embark on whatever the hell came next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading! I hope I did this wedding justice.
> 
> If you enjoyed, or there's anything you'd love to see more of, don't be shy about leaving a comment!


	24. B2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newlyweds Cass and Ada discover they're not the only ones with marriage on the mind—but first, they've got a mess to clean up.

We were all leaving the chapel through the side exit when someone finally got wise.

"Holy shit!" a man called out. "It's Ganesh!" and then a crowd started forming around Fiore, shouting and grabbing and attempting to snap selfies. He smiled along and tried his hardest to play nice, but his discomfort was clear.

"We'll see you soon," I promised as he got dragged away. There was an emptiness in his eyes that conveyed pure misery, but my words seemed to console him, if only slightly. I wished there was something we could do to rescue him, but as the ideas started forming in my head, Jesse caught up with us.

"Hey!" he called out to us, appearing jumpy about something. "I've got some news."

"So do we," Cassidy smiled back, clutching my hand tight.

"I figured out where to go," Jesse explained. "Where to look next."

"Great!" Cass said. This had apparently been a very successful trip. It looked like Cassidy was about to continue, likely to share _our_ good news, but Jesse spoke first.

"It is great," he said, sounding self-satisfied. "Tulip and I will get married, then we'll hit the road."

Cass and I gave each other the quickest of looks. I thought that sounded rash, and then instantly realized how hypocritical that was.

"That... That's good!" Cass said, glancing between me and Jesse, though Jess seemed off in his own world, not noticing.

Should we hold off on our news until these two went through with their own nuptials? Cass's cautious glances told me that yes, waiting was the wise thing to do.

"Kind of spur of the moment kind of thing," Jesse explained. "Crazy, huh?"

"No!" I said, almost too insistently.

"Not at all!" Cass chimed in. I thought we were being incredibly suspicious, but Jesse was terrible at picking up on those kinds of things.

Should we fill him in on the steps it would actually take to make this thing official? My gut told me to shut up and let things take their course.

"So what was your news?" Jesse asked us after a silence.

"Our what now?" Cassidy played dumb.

"You said you had some big news to share," Jesse said impatiently. "Or did you already forget?"

"We, uh, _handled_ things with Fiore," I interjected. I tried not to blush thinking about what had transpired in his suite.

Cass gave me a look as if to say "nice save," and then winked at Jesse, who couldn't have possibly known what that wink implied. He didn't seem to derive any meaning from it.

"Seriously?" Jesse didn't quite seem to believe us. "He's gonna call off the Saint?"

"Yeah," Cass answered. "I think he needed someone to talk to."

"Hmm," he thought out loud, but not for long. He continued fidgeting in place.

I couldn't believe it took me this long to notice that here Jesse was, waiting to tie the knot, and that oddly, Tulip was nowhere to be found.

"Where _is_ Tulip, by the way?" I asked.

"She's changing her shirt," Jesse explained matter-of-factly.

"I think I'll go help," I said, thinking his explanation sounded fishy. "She might need a woman's helping hand?"

Jesse bought that, and lent me his key card with the room number written on it. I left Cass to keep him company and made my way back upstairs to find her.

As I let myself in, I witnessed Tulip's brutal killing of a man at least three times her size. She landed a final blow with her own pink wedding pager, his blood smearing against a back wall as all 300 pounds of him slammed to the floor. Broken glass scattered the tacky hotel carpet, lamps and bowls were knocked off of every surface, and the bedsheets were messily strewn about.

She was standing there, looking exhaustedly at the ground when she mumbled something about her shirt. Clearly, she hadn't noticed me.

"Do you, uh, need some help with that?" I asked her. She barely reacted as she looked up at me.

"You're not gonna ask me about the dead guy?"

"I _do_ wanna ask about the dead guy," I said. "But I think if you wanna tell me about him, you will, and if you don’t... Well in that case, it’s none of my business.“

"Thanks. That was Gary," she explained curtly, pointing at the man with the pager as more blood soaked his tailored grey suit. "And yeah, some help would be nice."

"You're in luck," I told her. "I've been told there's a furnace in the basement specifically for disposing of bodies."

"And how do you suppose we're gonna get him there?

That would be the tough part.

I approached the massive body, and it was obvious neither of us had a fraction of the strength required to move him. But that wouldn't stop me from trying.

"You gotta lift with your legs," Tulip instructed me as I tried to get a grip of his shoulders, but it was no use.

"You need to let me call Cassidy," I told her as I continued my attempt to pick him up. I realized it was the first time I'd said his name since it became _my_ name, and I had to conceal the start of an inappropriate smile.

"No," she stressed. "You know how he gets all... _weird_ about lying to Jesse. I don't wanna pile another thing on him to feel wrong about. And Jesse _cannot_ know about this."

I sighed.

"I appreciate that you want to protect him. I seriously get that better than anyone else," I told her. "But trust me. Cass can help us, and if I ask him, he'll keep his mouth shut."

Then her pager started buzzing and flashing with its pink lights. That meant it was wedding time.

The situation a bit helpless and time growing short, Tulip finally relented and allowed me to call Cass. My phone was still a useless pile of glass and metal from the shootout, but even when I tried Tulip's, she had zero signal up here. For a second, I thought the universe was conspiring against us, but then I remembered that landlines exist, and dialed him from the room phone.

"Hello?" he answered when he picked up, sounding slightly confused.

"Cass, it's Ada," I said softly, but urgently, "and I need your help, but I need you to promise that whatever you see here, you don't say a word to Jesse."

"Consider it done," he answered simply.

"Tell Jess that I want you for something, and then come up to the room."

I gave him the room number, and then he promised to be up shortly.

"You go ahead down to Jesse at the chapel," I told her. "Cass and I've got this."

"You sure?" Tulip asked as she removed her blood-soaked top, gazing with frustration at the stains. It looked like she'd enjoy nothing more than to get out of here as she changed back into the black shirt she'd been wearing earlier in the day.

"Yeah I'm sure," I said. "Go get married!"

"Thanks for this, Ada," she said, jogging away. I got to wiping the streak of blood off the wall with wet wipes I found in the bathroom, relieved to see it came right off.

Cassidy showed up before long, and I asked him to brace himself before I let him in.

"Jaysis," he exclaimed. "What happened? Tulip did this?"

"Yeah," I answered. "Now do you think you can help me get this body down to Fiore's furnace?"

"That should be doable," he said, searching around the room for tools. "Who was he?"

"Gary," I answered, shrugging. "Tulip didn't want to get into it, but I think she's in deep trouble with someone."

"I s'pose we'll have to keep a careful eye out for her, won't we?" he said, grabbing the top sheet from the bed. He then peeked outside the room's front door, made an "aha" sound, and returned shortly with a borrowed housekeeping cart.

"Dis'll do nicely," he said before we very carefully removed the stacks of clean replacement towels, robes and blankets from the cart. A key card was also conveniently placed along its top.

Cass directed me to lift Gary by the knees as he grabbed his top half. He was always much stronger than he looked, and with him doing the majority of the heavy lifting, we managed to get the body balanced over the cart, spread face-down, before covering it with the sheet. The cart was nearly buckling under his weight, but it'd do the job.

"I can handle this from here, if it's too much fer ya," Cass said gently. "It might be a tad gruesome down there, and I've done this kinda ting before."

"No... I wanna help if I can," I insisted, causing him to grin.

"In that case, let's get outta here," he said, and together, we pushed the weighty trolley down the hallway to the elevator, looking as inconspicuous as we could, despite our odd clothing and the giant bulging mass in the cart. Hotel goers politely made way for us as we inched closer, paying us no attention, in spite if everything.

When we finally got there, I pushed the button to head down. The doors soon opened, with a brightly smiling couple standing inside.

The woman was wearing a plastic tiara with a white chiffon veil trailing from it, and the man wore a tuxedo T-shirt. We crammed into the elevator beside them, excusing ourselves as we did. When the doors shut in front of us, my instincts were to keep to myself as much as possible and not draw attention to us. For Cass, that wasn't the case.

"Congratulations," he leaned over, with a genuine smile. "Cheers to the happy couple."

They both smiled and laughed, high from the experience of their new marriage. They loved making small talk with Cass, revealing where they were from and what they did and how great it was to be newlyweds, and while they were distracted, Cass slipped me the housekeeper's card key.

Below the elevator buttons was a dark grey plastic box. I swiped the card in front of it, and a small green LED lit up beside it. I pressed the B2 button for the deepest basement level, and it stayed lit. My heart beat rapidly as we drew nearer and I prepared myself for a horror movie basement. When the couple stepped off at the first floor, telling us how nice it was to meet us, they didn't think a thing about the fact we hadn't gotten off with them.

When the doors did open at the second basement level, they revealed a room that, rather than being creepy and foreboding, was actually rather well-lit, with grey cement walls and floors, and a number of pipes lining the high ceilings. Best of all, there was no awful smell. I had anticipated the foul stench of death, not citrus floor wax.

Only three lifeless Fiores sat in a pile near the entrance to the huge furnace. Maybe this should have disturbed me, but I'd spent enough time with one dead angel to not be bothered, especially knowing he was still walking around upstairs somewhere, probably grimacing as he signed yet another autograph.

The furnace itself resembled a large cage with metal walls. At the center of its front was a rectangular opening that seemed custom-built for accommodating coffins. Gary had been a big guy, but if he didn't fit, we'd make him.

Before throwing him in, Cassidy patted the body down. He found a lighter, a metal tin full of breath mints, and a wallet flush with cash. He pocketed the lighter, mints and money, and took a couple of metal rings off Gary's fingers, then led the charge as we hoisted his heavy body into the machine. It was a tight squeeze, but we managed. Then Cass slammed down the metal door and pressed a few buttons to get the contraption going.

"You know how to work that thing?" I asked him.

"Not at all," he said. "I tought it'd be an incinerator-type situation like last time. Doesn't matter. Let's get outta here."

We quickly made our way back up to the floor, placing all of the fresh linens and the card back on the cart and putting it back before the maid could even miss it.

Then we returned to the room. We were simultaneously being slightly nosy and poking around, clearing the place of any murder evidence, when Tulip returned.

"So?" I asked her excitedly, believing a celebration was in order. "How'd it go?"

"How'd what go?" she asked, her tone slightly dodgy. It was obvious they hadn't gone through with it.

"Never mind," I said, shaking my head. Itdidn't feel right to press her on it, and if I had to speak truthfully about the situation, I wouldn't even say it was a good idea for her and Jesse to get married. Cass shot me a sympathetic look. "Anyway, we sorted Gary out. You won't have to worry about him anymore."

"Thanks," she said. "Both of you."

"Don't worry about it," I told her. "We owed you one."

She paused, and scrunched her lips up to her nose.

"Marriage is dumb, isn't it?" It was more of a statement than a question. I don't think she thought that. I believe she just felt like the world was working against her yet again. The O'Hare curse. "It's just stupid. What do people have to prove, anyway?"

I had to use every ounce of my will not to look at Cassidy then, and I wondered what his immediate reaction was to that statement. Now was certainly not the time to share our news–if there ever would be a time.

"Who knows?" Cassidy said with a shrug, and I finally felt like I had an excuse to look at him. Now Tulip was looking away, lost in thought, and I had the chance to exchange a glance with Cass.

His look said, "_Oh great, another bloody secret," _but unfortunately for now, keeping that secret would probably be the best for everyone involved.

"I think it's time to leave this place behind, don't you?" I finally said. The room was a wreck, and I didn't think sticking around and thinking about this was helping Tulip feel any better.

She nodded, softly and sadly, and we helped her grab their things.

* * *

Fiore was insistent about seeing us off, and I was glad I could say a proper goodbye to him. He even recruited some of the casino staff to help us pack Tulip's car back up, urging them to be extra careful with anything belonging to me or Cassidy. This was going to be a tough farewell, and his emotions were already clear in his face. His piercing blue eyes shimmered, like he might start to cry at any minute.

"Thanks for this, mate," Cass told him. "Come here."

He invited Fiore in for a big bear hug, grabbing me in with them, and I could tell Fiore wasn't ready for it to end any time soon. We let it linger for a long time. The man needed it.

When it finally did let up, he looked at both of us like a lost puppy.

"You promise me you'll take care of yourself?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he said. "And you two, look after each other."

"We will," Cass vowed.

"You sure you don't want to come with us?" I asked Fiore.

"I... I can't," Fiore said, and he looked downtrodden about it. Jesse and Tulip probably wouldn't have liked it either, but I felt somewhat responsible for him and I didn't know what else to do.

"By the way," Cass now said in hushed tones, "you didn't happen to tell Jesse or Tulip about our little ceremony?"

"No," Fiore said with disdain. "Why should I?"

It seemed he didn't care for Jesse much. Good instinct.

"Thanks, Fiore," I said, standing up on my tip-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. I was gonna miss him more than I could have guessed. "We'll be back to see you soon, okay?"

He gave us both one last hug, and then said his goodbye and headed to the trunk to organize things.

It seemed Jesse had been watching us for a moment, and he squinted, like it had been the weirdest scene he'd ever witnessed.

"Alright," Jess said. "Let's go."

"Heard about the wedding," Cassidy said, eager to gauge how Jesse felt about the situation.

"It's fine. We agreed. Bad idea," Jesse said. He sounded unfazed by it all. And then, something unexpected. "Did something happen?"

That could mean so many things. Our tryst with Fiore. The wedding. Gary. All things Jesse was better off not knowing.

"When?" Cass asked, and it was an apt question.

"Upstairs? With Tulip?" Jesse clarified. "Feels like something happened."

Interesting that Jess actually noticed something, for once.

"No," he answered bluntly, and somehow that was enough for Jess. Cass and I scooted into the back seat, while Jesse took shotgun, and that was the end of it.

Before we headed off, Fiore had a few final words to exchange with Jesse.

"Good luck with your search," Fiore told him. "I never met God myself, but I hear good things." He paused for a moment. "Mostly."

When he asked where we were headed next, I was just as curious about the answer as the angel was.

"So far, we don't know much about God," Jesse explained. "What he looks like, who he knows, why he left. All we really know is he likes jazz. So stupid I didn't think of it before. If God likes jazz, what better place to look for him than..."

In unison, Tulip and Jesse muttered two words: "New Orleans".

It was in front of us this whole time. We were gonna follow the music.

Tulip took a long, tense drag from a cigarette, like she'd just heard truly awful news. She cursed under her breath. Jesse didn't notice.

Now, it was time for Jesse to summon the Saint to Fiore, so that we could finally be rid of him. All it would take was Genesis.

"Ready? What should I say?" he asked Fiore, but the angel didn't have an answer for him.

Then Jesse smiled gently, like he'd found the perfect solution.

"**_Find peace_," **bellowed Genesis, and Fiore staggered backward a couple of steps. Cass and I waved goodbye to him as we pulled away.

I hoped that whatever peace meant for him, it would bring him all the happiness in the world.

But mostly, as Tulip drove, I wondered about our quest for God, and about what might be in store for us as we traveled onward to New Orleans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for being here and reading this. I hope you're curious to see what's next! 
> 
> If you enjoyed, or there's anything you'd love to see more of, don't be shy about leaving a comment!


	25. The Dog in the Basement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang makes their way to New Orleans, and the first jazz club they visit on their quest for God offers them more than they bargained for

It all started off alright. A bit noir, like a detective movie. But that didn't last, and things descended into chaos before long. Brassy squawks filled the air like a flock of sea birds fending off a predator, some lost in battle, falling like bricks from the sky. Then it was tiny, horrible insects skittering across the skin. It wound up, and up and up, until it couldn't wind any tighter. That was followed by a screeching crash—the feeling that everything was coming to a close, that this was the end—and then an unexpected continuation, the disorder straightened into something so dull, so ordinary, that it was instantly forgettable.

This was like walking into a chain coffee shop and being lulled to sleep while you wait for your morning brew, like a loagy, tired interpretation of the soundtrack of _SimCity 3000. _There were still occasional moments of darkness, of sinister tension and dancing demons, but they wouldn't linger, and then after nearly 13 unlucky minutes, it was finally finished.

The song was bad enough the first time we heard it, but Jesse had it on repeat in Tulip's CD player. It was just the first of the tracks on a little album called _14 Best Songs No One's Ever Heard Of, _and after hearing this one, I had no interest in the rest.

Since we'd taken off from the Mumbai Sky Tower, Cass and I were enjoying each other's company quietly in the back seat, basking in post-wedding bliss—as much as we could, at least, with this racket going on—while Jesse and Tulip were silent for other reasons.

Jesse had his ear tuned to the music, as if he were studying it for his final exam at church school, while Tulip stared forward, knuckles clutched tight around the top of her steering wheel.

It would be at least a four hour drive from the hotel in East Texas to New Orleans, but I suspected it'd take quite a bit longer with the way she was driving. Tulip had a reputation for being a speed demon, and today's decision to be a responsible driver made everyone in the car raise an eye. That and, the closer we got, the more tense she appeared.

We were moving on to the fourth listen of the mind-numbing jazz track when I spied a large green sign that informed us, "You Are Now Leaving Texas." Over the last word, someone had taken red spray paint and sloppily written, "YOUR LOSS DIPSHIT" at the bottom.

I think crossing that border made this real for Tulip, because not long after we passed it, she finally broke her silence.

"I just think New Orleans is a dumb idea," she stated.

"Got a better one?" Jesse asked, impatient.

"No, Nola's great," Cassidy chimed in, not helping the situation any. "Ladies flash their boobs at practically nothing up there." He paused, remembering his audience. "If you like that sort of thing," he added. "I don't."

"Who are you kidding?" I said so that only he could hear, laughing at the thought.

"Ya don't tink it's demeaning-like to the women there?" he asked.

"I think they're probably there to have a good time," I shrugged. "Maybe they're proud they have some nice assets to shake around. Sounds fun to me."

"Well, yer the one who said it, not me," he grinned, and I very much looked forward to my first trip to the city with him.

As the brass instruments flared again,Tulip groaned loudly.

"Are we gonna have to listen to this one song over and over the whole drive?" she complained.

"I'm just trying to figure it out," Jesse said."Tammy said 'A Walk to the Peak' was God's favorite."

It wasn't the worst idea, honestly, but I did wish he had some headphones or something so he wouldn't have to inflict it upon the rest of us.

"It is kinda catchy," Cass joked. It certainly was not.

"Yeah, like cats screwing. At the airport. Under an ice cream truck," Tulip commented. That was much more succinct than my summation. I liked it.

She was getting increasingly annoyed with Jesse and his insistence on heading to New Orleans, and when he asked if she wanted him to drive, that really got under her skin.

"My car?" she asked incredulously. "_No_. Why?"

"You're driving like a little boy," Jesse told her.

"No, I'm not," she said, but the needle pointing to 50 on the speedometer told us all otherwise. She insisted she was just obeying the posted speed limit, but I think we all knew that was nonsense. "I just think New Orleans is a dumb plan."

Somehow, the conversation turned to liking tacos, and Mexijazz, and how maybe instead of going to New Orleans in search of God, we should turn the car right around and start heading south toward Mexico.

"Because maybe God likes Mexijazz?" Jesse asked, incredulously.

"Well, maybe," Tulip said, a hint of hope in her voice.

"Well, I got a good feeling about New Orleans," Jesse said with a smile, turning up the volume knob to pipe "A Walk to the Peak" even more loudly into our ears as we drove through down the sweltering highway, inching ever closer to our destination.

* * *

Some time later, we stopped to refuel in a what appeared to be a little town called Prairieville. With the long canopy hanging over the gas station islands and a wide concrete drive, it was virtually identical to the hundreds we'd passed on the way here. Regardless, the pitstop was a nice break from Jesse's jazz.

As Tulip got out to pump, Jesse excused himself for a smoke break, no doubt to continue pondering his God dilemma.

As we sat in the back seat, without warning, Cass leaned over and planted a big, wet kiss on my lips. I was happy to return it. The act released a tension I hadn't known I'd been carrying for a while.

"Would ya wanna get out with me fer a minute? Stretch yer legs?" he asked me.

"That's not a bad idea," I answered. "Plus, the food mart over there is calling my name."

"Then it's a date," he said, quickly exiting the car on his side and running around the back, protected from the sun by the overhang. He then opened my door, holding his hand out for me in a very gentlemanly manner. I took it happily, and he led me into the little convenience store attached the station.

He nabbed a little hand basket for me, and we started tossing in everything that caught our fancy. Water bottles, of course, but also trail mix and Goldfish crackers and peach ring gummies and Red Bull and Peanut M&M's and Gushers and beef jerky, for good measure. We got Tulip one of those little cereal cups with the tearaway lids, knowing she'd appreciate it, and for Jesse—well, neither of us knew what snacks he liked, so we nabbed him a regular old Hershey's bar and hoped for the best.

As I eyed the fruity candy section, basket dangling in front of me, Cass wrapped his arms around me, lovingly pulling me to him.

"Listen," he said quietly in my ear. "I've got to mention, since we're headed to New Orleans, that Denis lives there."

Denis. His son. Technically, my stepson. I gave him a little nod, to let him know I remembered.

"I was tinkin' we could stay wit him, y'know?" he added. "He's got this big historical flat, quiet part o' town. But I wanted to know first if ya'd be against it, if it's too soon 'n all that or if it'll be weird fer ya."

It didn't take me too long to consider it. If he were anything like Cass, I knew I'd have no trouble caring for him. I tried to picture him in my head—older, but dashing, clever and kind. Honestly, I couldn't wait.

"No, Cass," I told him. "I'm excited to meet him. He's family, after all."

He let me go, spun me around and gave me another kiss. When it ended, he was grinning from ear to ear.

"I know he's gonna love you," he told me, and I couldn't help but smile right back at him.

We paid for our snacks, and when we got back to the car, Tulip was also nowhere to be found. Maybe she'd gone off to find Jesse?

Meanwhile, I was starting to sweat a bit in my pajamas.

"Would it be weird if I got changed?" I asked Cass, pinching the fabric with my fingers and waving it back and forth to air out a little.

"Not at all, love," he assured me. "I was tinkin' the same thing meself."

We popped around to the back of the car and picked out changes of clothes from the trunk. I grabbed my thinnest black tee and a pair of hip-hugging jeans, plus a green bomber jacket for later when the temperatures might dip a bit. Cass, on the other hand, found a pink shirt emblazoned with a huge glittery butterfly, a pair of dark pants and a smart cognac leather jacket.

We got back into the back seat, Cass holding one of his protective blankets over me for privacy as I got into my fresh duds. When I was dressed, Cass had no shame about clothing himself in the open. I had to admire that about him—and the man had _really _managed to make the best of the church's donation bin during his short time in Annville. How he looked this good I'm shitty hand-me-downs, I'd never know.

Not long after that, Tulip was back, fretting as she paced back and forth in front of her car, biting at her thumbnail.

"She's been actin' extra weird since we've been on the road, hadn't she?" Cass noted.

I nodded in agreement.

"You think this is about the not getting married thing? Or the killing a dude with a pager thing?" I asked.

"Both," he posited. "And did ya notice she'd still got more'n a quarter tank o' gas?" he asked me. I hadn't. "She usually plays fast 'n loose with this kinda ting. Shepushes it. The fact she didn't wait till the last second, when there are stations _all_ along this highway? Well she's scared of sometin' that's fer sure."

He was absolutely right.

"Do you think I should talk to her? See if she'll tell me more than she was willing earlier?"

"I tink it's worth a try," he shrugged, so I stepped outside and leaned against the car near Tulip.

"Hey," I said, trying to be as gentle as possible. She flinched.

"_Jesus_, Ada!" she yelped. "You scared the shit outta me."

I exhaled. “My bad," I apologized. "Wasn't trying to freak you out. Just wanted to check in. See how you're holding up."

"Well I'm holdin' up okay, thanks," she said dismissively, scanning the horizon.

"You know, if there's something bothering you, something you need to get of your chest, I'm here for you, right?" I asked. "No judgment, mouth sealed."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, still not looking at me.

"And it's not just me," I continued. "You can count on Cass, too."

Maybe that was exactly the wrong thing to say.

"Look," she said, her voice raised and haughty. "I am not some damsel in distress, and I don't need rescuin'. Especially not by you two, okay?"

It didn't seem helpful to push this now. I felt at this point, I was only making her dig in deeper. She was definitely stubborn, and I was beginning to think she would only be open to being saved by Jesse himself. Unfortunately, that appeared to be the last thing on his mind at the moment. 

"Okay," I answered. "I get it. But my offer still stands."

"Sure," she said, staring down the highway toward New Orleans, and I retreated to safety with Cass in the back seat.

I must have been wearing a dejected expression, because Cass eyed my sympathetically as I scooted into place

"That bad?" he asked.

"Just Tulip being Tulip," I shrugged. "But I'll get through to her. Just you wait."

"That's my girl," Cass said, and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me in close.

* * *

We were off again as soon as Jesse returned from his stroll, and we had peace for all of 10 minutes before he remembered to push the play button and resume "A Walk to the Peak".

Another 10 minutes after that, a powerful, devastating emotion ripped through me until my heart was pounding and my breath was short and the tears were trickling down my face. The pressure built into my temples until I could barely think, and not knowing what was happening—why I hurt—only made things me feel more helpless.

"Hey, hey," Cass comforted the second he took notice, digging around our bags on the floor to find a chilled water bottle before he twisted off the cap and pulled the spout to my lips, holding me tighter to him. I drank readily.

"There ya go," he reassured me in a whisper, wiping at my cheeks with one of his sleeves. "Now what's goin' through that head o' yers?"

"I... I can't explain it," I choked. "Just this awful feeling. Like... Ben Kenobi after the destruction of Alderaan, maybe." I tried to speak in a language he'd understand.

"You feel a great disturbance in the Force," he nodded wisely.

"Yeah," I answered with a sad shrug. "It's probably nothing."

"No, listen," he insisted. "I'd wager it's sometin' important. Listen to yer gut. You've got a good sense about these kinda tings."

It sounded true when he said it, and I wondered. What had happened to do this to me? And more importantly, why would I sense whatever this was, and not the collapse of my entire town?

I was still rattled, and Cass saw it. He changed the subject like a professional.

"Have I ever told ya about about the time I saw a true-to-life unicorn?" he asked me.

"You haven't," I said, smudging away another tear. "But you definitely should."

"Alright, so I'm lying by the campfire there, and I hear this noise..."

It only took me a minute to become enraptured, and before long, I'd forgotten the troubled feeling had ever come.

* * *

It was already late by the time we arrived at Bourbon Street, but you wouldn't know it based on the commotion as revelers wearing boas and masquerade masks and beads —or otherwise very little at all—sashayed their way through the city. A parade made its way down the street, led by an elaborate dragon sculpture followed by a marching jazz band, and the spirit of it all was positively infectious. Even my rhythmically challenged body felt nearly compelled to move along with them.

Like Cass had anticipated, women flashed their breasts at every opportunity in exchange for chains of metallic plastic beads in green, purple and gold. The trade didn't seem quite worth it to me, but if they were enjoying themselves, that wasn't my problem. In fact, I was quite enjoying myself.

As we walked, Jesse and Tulip got ahead of us, and Cass dug in his pocket for his phone, worked through it a little bit, and then extended his arm, our faces reflected back at us in the selfie camera as he wrapped a long arm around me.

"For posterity's sake," he said warmly, and while I usually hated being in pictures, it was easy for me to smile for the camera with Cass by my side.

The camera flashed painfully in our eyes, but when he brought the phone down to my level and placed it in my hand to see, I couldn't have asked for anything better. Our joy was perfectly captured in the slightly washed out image, our grins huge, and I was over the moon that he'd thought to immortalize this moment. This was the closest thing we had to a wedding photo, after all.

"This is perfect, Cass," I told him. "Thank you for taking it." He kissed me on the top of my head.

"Tank you for takin' it with me," he said softly.

As I was handing the phone back to him, my thumb accidentally brushed the image, panning to an earlier photo in his camera roll. It was of me, staring out the window earlier in the day, lost in thought. There were a few like that in here, and then a couple of me dozing in the car in my pajamas, from before we visited the Sky Tower. Beyond that there were a few of me snapped as we drove to She She's. He didn't have anything else in his phone.

I was slightly startled but it, but somehow, there was a beauty in each one. I looked quietly joyful. At peace.

"Shite," Cass made a little sound when he noted my discovery, letting go and then standing to face me. "I hope that's not all a bit creepy."

"I mean... maybe it's a _little_ creepy," I admitted. "But I'm not bothered by it, Cass. I really appreciate these. I think it's sweet."

"I hoped you would," he said, an air of relief to his voice.

"You really have an eye for capturing... something," I said. "I don't know what it is. There an artistry to these."

"Yer just sayin' that 'cause ya love me," he said.

"I'm not!" I swore. "I can't stand photos of myself. But these? They're special."

"That's because they're of the most beautiful creature on this Earth," he grinned.

"Aw, you're just saying that because you love me," I joked back at him. "But why the secrecy?"

His face went slightly somber before he spoke again

"I started takin' 'em after ya came back safe from that encounter with the cowboy," he explained. "I wanted to remember everythin', to not let the moments go ta waste. I guess I was worried if you knew ya were bein' photographed, it might change the essence of what I was seein' in ya, y'know? I know it's a sorry excuse."

"I don't blame you for that, Cass," I told him. "I don't mind you taking pictures of me. But what you did tonight? That was my favorite. I'll always pose for you if you like. And the more I get to take _with_ you, the better."

"Oh, I have some poses I'd like ya to try," he said in a low, sultry voice.

"As long as you don't have your phone synced with the cloud, you can take any pictures of me that you like," I whispered back at him in my best bedroom voice.

"So ya _don't_ want the NSA to see yer nudes," he said with a wink. "Got it."

It was then that a large man with a lot of bead necklaces stopped in front of us to vomit in the middle of the street. I wondered what he'd done to earn them all, and soon we were caught up with Tulip and Jesse.

"You have any idea how many jazz clubs there are in New Orleans, Jesse?" Tulip asked as we continued walking through the mob. She had put on a black hoodie, and with the hood over her head and her hands tucked squarely in her pockets, she looked like she was hiding, trying to minimize her existence as much as possible.

"187," he answered confidently. He'd looked it up.

"So where do we start, padre?" Cass asked.

"How 'bout right here?" Jesse replied. It happened that we were standing right outside of a jazz club, but maybe that was a statistical inevitability.

We entered, and the place was dark, but cozy, with twinkly string lights chatty clientele with a friendly vibe. The jazz band playing moody tunes in the corner wasn't half bad, either.

Jesse had no time to waste, walking straight up to the bar.

"'Scuse me," he spoke to a bartender. "I'm lookin' for God."

He put on a perplexed look, but I didn't expect what he said next.

"All four of you?" the man asked, like the question was quite typical, but our number was out of the ordinary.

Jesse nodded, and the bartender asked his buddy at the bar to cover him, and then he told us to follow him. We did, past the live band in the corner, under a neon sign hanging above a long, long hallway. That hall led back outside, to the alleyway between this building and the next. There, we met a large bouncer guarding the space.

"These folks are looking for God," the bartender told him.

He also asked if it would be all four of us, and the bartender assured him it would be. The bouncer also asked us to follow him, unlatching a chain barrier and letting us through, before we walked down the alley and through a door into the next building. That took us into a kitchen, where the smell of boiling fat filled the air and we dodged cooks working fryers.

"This is a bit like _Goodfellas_, isn't it?" Cass whispered to me as we weaved through the hustle. "Except, y'know, a bit shite."

I knew exactly what he meant as we moved deeper in. The experience didn't make me feel like a glitzy Karen Hill, and this was no Copacabana. In fact, it all seemed shadier by the second.

Beyond the kitchen was a deep, dark room of cement and brick, before we carefully stepped down a stairway framed by a colorful mural of the city. At the bottom was more brick, and the musty smell of damp, and we came upon a set of doors.

The bouncer slammed his fists again them, and another man let us in, leading into a room where the sharp scent of bleach and ammonia lingered in the air, and a small bald man in a striped shirt and round glasses stood in front of a dark curtain, looking at us expectantly. There was something eerie about him that I couldn't place. Jesse stared at him, mouth agape, in bewilderment.

"These folks are looking for God," the bouncer told him.

"All four of us," Cassidy reminded, knowingly.

The little man placed an index finger in front of his mouth in a shushing gesture, like we were about to step into something sacred, before he pulled the curtain aside. In the back of the room, sharing an antique settee loveseat, was a man dressed in a skintight rubber Dalmatian costume, and a plain woman in a pink floral top, who held his leash.

Behind them, on the wall, was a black sign that read, "Please keep semen away from fur!” I should have recognized the pungent fragrance right away—the smell of other people fucking.

I found my gaze drawn back to the dog man and the cold, black, glossy eyes of the mask, and I suddenly felt a strange terror grasp my whole body. I felt fully vulnerable, exposed somehow, as my breath hitched and I attempted to place this oddly familiar fear.

It didn't make much sense, but this was the same sense of illogical panic I felt staring into a hall of mirrors bouncing their light back into each other again and again into an eternal emerald abyss, the same fright that sometimes seized me when I gazed into the night sky, past the stars, and my mind attempted to grasp the incredible, unending vastness of space, and my tiny, inconsequential place within it. It was a fear of the infinite, and that's what overtook me now, forcing me to grab onto Cassidy to keep my footing. He held me close, and then the sensation was gone. Even then, I didn't dare look back at the dog.

The small man presented a tray carrying a couple of dog toys—did my eyes trick me, or was one shaped like a cock and balls?—and treats, and the bouncer gave us the rates. $1,800 to watch. $4,000 to play. $12,000 for doggie style.

"Wow," Cass commented as Tulip burst into laughter next to us. "That's different."

"What'll it be?" the bouncer asked.

Cass reached for his wallet and started digging through the cash, counting up what we had from before, plus the money he'd picked up from Gary, to see where we were at. If this was a lead, we might as well watch and see where it might take us.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jesse sneered at him.

"Payin' the man," Cass explained. Tulip grinned again.

"We don't want this," Jesse said. It was a declaration.

"But what if this is something...?" I began.

He wore a disgusted look and I knew better than to continue.

"You sure?" the bouncer asked him.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Jesse answered. I think he saw this whole thing as an affront to all things holy. "We're looking for God. God, God. _The_ God. Not... _this_."

That seemed to set them off. The bouncer, the bald man and the woman all looked at the dog, as if they were terrified of him and what might happen next, and then the suited man gave out a low, mean and haunting growl.

We were ushered out then in a hurry while the bouncer threatened Jesse. Cassidy stood there, transfixed, and had to be manhandled a bit to move from his spot, staring at the man dog.

"Get out of here, ya freaks," the bouncer shouted as we left. You don't know what you're missing out on."

It was then that the words of poor Tammy from the strip club ran through my head. I didn't understand why until much later.

_"I hope you find Him, preacher," she had told Jesse with her dying breath. "You will shit yourself."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and apologies for the delay on this chapter. I realized Monday when it came time to post that I'd somehow deleted the entire thing and had to start it from scratch again. _Fun._
> 
> The next chapter shouldn't be too long, but it's an important one and I hope you all like it.
> 
> And if you enjoyed, or there's anything you'd love to see more of, don't be shy about leaving a comment!


	26. Le Beau-Fils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ada's meeting with Cassidy's son, Denis, takes a turn when she learns he doesn't speak English

We exited underneath a sign for a place called the Kitty Cat Club, and the energy of the crowd and refreshing night air were quite the respite from what we'd just seen.

Cass was half-smiling, half-reeling from the experience, but as much as it looked like he would love to dive into a conversation about the man in the skintight dog suit, he held back.

"You alright?" he asked me. "Ya went a bit white 'n off-balance there fer a moment."

"I'm mostly okay now," I answered. "I just got the strangest feeling in there, like..." and then I couldn't explain, because the memory of what I'd felt had left me entirely, evaporating into thin air. "I can't say. But I did think it might be a good idea to stay and observe. That was weird, right?"

"Ada's kinks get revealed," Cass joked in a low tone only I could hear, and I pushed him a little in feigned offense.

Meanwhile, Tulip looked very distracted—scared even. She'd look into the distance, and then quickly turn back toward us, covering her face. She needed to be off the street as soon as possible.

"I think I might have to call it a night," I announced, and Tulip breathed a notable sigh of relief.

"Yeah," Tulip added. "I don't feel so good, either."

She started walking off, and I followed.

"We're only just getting started," Jesse said, chasing us, the annoyance clear in his voice.

"We're not gonna stop you, Jesse," I said back to him. "But look. We're tired. We're feeling all mixed up after seeing _that. _We just need an early night, is all. It's been a big day."

"What's going on with you two?" he demanded to know.

"I got a stomachache," Tulip answered quietly.

He sighed as she scanned the place again.

"Alright," Jesse said. "Feel better." He didn’t sound all that sincere.

When he promptly walked away, Tulip chased after him. I missed the next part of their conversation as Cass caught up with me.

"What's going on with them?" he asked.

"Jesse's mad that we don't wanna keep looking for God tonight," I explained. "Well, he's mad at Tulip. I don't think he gives a shit about what I do.

"Tulip's been actin' bit shifty since we arrived," he added. "Could be good to get her back to Denis's fer safekeepin'."

That sounded like a plan.

Before long, Jesse dropped Tulip back off with us.

"Well, looks like it's just me and you, Cass," Jesse said.

"I'm sorry, padre," Cass told him, sticking by us, "I'm gonna have to go with them."

"What?"

"Well, I have to show 'em the way," Cass answered. "We're staying with Denis."

"Who?"

"The guy who we're staying with, Denis," he explained. "If he finds out we're staying at a motel, he'll never forgive me, alright? I'll text you the address. You're gonna love 'im."

Jesse looked utterly sick of all of this, turning and walking away without another word.

"Hey," Tulip called out to him, and he turned back to face her. "Till the end of the world, right?"

"Right," he said, his heart and mind somewhere else, and then he was off, and so were we.

* * *

I tried to keep up with Tulip as she shuffled down the dark, oddly quiet streets of the French Quarter. She kept low with her head down and hands clutching her leather duffle bag close to her body as her eyes darted back and forth across the street. Cass trailed slightly behind, giving us space and occasionally shouting out a correction when Tulip steered us away from our destination.

"Are you sure you don't want to fill me in even a _tiny_ bit about what's going on here?" I whispered to her when I was finally side to side with her.

"I'm _sure_," she asserted, shaking her head too assertively.

"Alright," I said. "It's just... If it's bad you didn't have to deal with it alone."

"Ada?" she asked, stopping for the first time all night. "Would you consider yourself my friend?"

"Of course, Tulip."

"Then drop it, okay?" she said, and continuing marching onward.

I wasn't ready to. As a black SUV passed, she cursed to herself and ducked into the alleyway behind a little house.

She breathed a sigh of relief when it was out of sight, leaning against the side of the house.

"So we're hiding from scary dudes in unmarked vehicles?" I asked quietly as I stepped into the alley with her, and she shot me a look. "What?"

"You wouldn't understand," she tried to dissuade me.

"Try me," I dared her. "No judgments. Have I let you down before?"

"Fine..." she said. "But not now, out here and with Cass around. Okay?"

"Yeah, of course that's okay," I said. That was when Cassidy finally caught up with us.

"What're the two o' ya doing, whisperin' together in a dark alley?" he asked.

"Girl shit, Cass," Tulip said. "You wouldn't get it."

"You'd be surprised," he said with a smile, but he knew better than to push it, and we started off again. No sooner than we did, we heard the warm voice of an older woman behind us.

"Tulip?" she asked, and Tulip immediately recognized the voice, forced a smile and turned around to greet her. She had a kind presence, and I had to wonder why this frightened Tulip so much.

"Tulip O'Hare," the woman continued sweetly. "I thought that was your cute little backside."

"Hi, Mrs. Barbaret," Tulip said through a forced grin, her tone as cordial as she could keep it.

"Where've you been, honey?" she asked, seeming genuinely concerned about her whereabouts.

"Oh, you know," Tulip tried to keep it casual. "Just... out of town."

It wasn't technically a lie, I supposed.

"Well, you stop all your running around and come over for some o' my doberge," Mrs. Barbaret insisted, coming in for a motherly hug. "I'll make the lemon like you like."

"Thank you, Mrs. Barbaret," Tulip replied. "That sounds real good."

"You've been a stranger too long," Mrs. Barbaret told her she bid us farewell, giving me a friendly smile, and Cass a strange stare before she finally walked away.

Tulip turned back around to face us, her strained smile morphing into a grimace.

"She seems really nice," Cass said, and he wasn't wrong.

"_Shit_," Tulip cursed, and stormed off.

"Maybe not," Cass murmured to me, and we followed off after her again.

This time, I lingered behind with Cassidy, and he pointed out some of the local establishments along St. Ann Street as we approached the apartment. _This_ little florist had been there since he first came to the city in the '40s. _That_ was the biggest comic book shop in New Orleans, where you could buy any issue or trade paperback your heart could desire, or authentic Wolverine claws and a set of working batarangs if you had $800 to spare. There was a 24-hour café that had the best beignets in town, a very bribable pharmacy for any medicinal needs you might have, a bank that was almost comically easy to pillage, and a blood bank that was the same.

He clearly had a fond passion for this place. The sights made his eyes light up in a way that the landscape of Texas could have never made them. I could easily see how he could settle down here, at least for a while. How once, he could have believed this would become his home.

When we approached a large brick facade with impressive wooden doors, he jogged ahead a little to catch up with Tulip and let her know we'd arrived. 

Cass called up to the apartment, pressing a button that caused a mechanism to buzz drearily.

"How do you know this guy again?" Tulip asked. I wondered if she thought he might be tied to her pursuers.

I left it to Cass to tell her as much as he was willing.

"Who? Denis?" he asked. “Oh, we go way back. He's hysterical."

Cass repeated the name with excitement as the door opened, and this man was certainly not what I expected from Cass's son. Somehow, I felt like I knew him in an instant, but he wasn't vibrant or cheery or warm, like I'd anticipated. I got the sense he was worn out by life, by pain, and had let his sourness guide him for too long. He was so damned tired. Restless. Weary. The simple sense of it drained me. 

"My god, man. You look great! Come here," Cassidy grinned, and he seemed sincerely happy to be here again with his son. Cass hugged him, but Denis didn't return the gesture. In fact, he didn’t emote much at all. "It's good to see you. Ada and Tulip, Denis. Denis, Ada 'n Tulip."

And then he surprised me again, speaking for the first time, in a low grumble—and in French.

"_C’est pas_ Denis," he spat. "_C'est Denis_."

"_Shit_, Cassidy,” I said through my teeth. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

I tried my best to remember my high school A.P. French courses as he continued to rant about how Cass only showed up when he wanted something, how all he did was eat his food, drink his booze and party until his place was a pig sty.

"Wait? You can understand 'im? What? What did he say?" Cass asked.

"Later," I told him, and then, trying to wrap my head around a language I hadn't spoken in 13 years, and even then only in school, I said, "_Bonsoir Denis. Parlez-vous anglais?_"

He didn't speak any English. In fact, he said something about how he refused to learn. Why should he?

He added that I surprised him, that Cassidy's prostitutes didn't _usually_ speak any French—and that there were usually more of us.

I told him I was no _prostituée, _that in fact I was Cassidy's wife—_l' _épouse—that Tulip wasn't, either, that there were four of us, and Cassidy had said that we could stay with him for a bit. Cassidy watched impressed as I spoke, but I felt Denis judging my every stumbled word and misplaced conjugation, and he certainly wasn't happy about the imposition.

He said he was too old for this, that Cassidy wasn’t trustworthy and he’d be the death of him, and then finally conceded as he led us through the courtyard toward the apartment, decrepit and extravagant all at once. Lord knows why. My mind raced with a million new questions.

"You didn't tell me you could speak French," Cass said as we walked up, excited by the possibilities that entailed.

"And you didn't tell me that your... that he _only_ speaks French," I blurted, annoyed.

"It is a bit like fate though," he said. "You bein' able to finally talk to Denis."

"And that's the other thing," I sighed a deep sigh. "His name's not Denis." I pronounced the name with a hard S, like Dennis. "It's _Denis._" This time, I used the French pronunciation, with a silent S that sounded more like duh-nee. "All of this goddamn time..."

"I've been callin' 'im the wrong bloody name," Cass said, aghast. "_Shite_."

He stopped in the courtyard, seeming lost in thought, and pained, likely poring over too many memories he wished he could change. He shook his head at me, unsure of what he could even do at this point.

He clearly felt like shit, and as frustrated as I was with him about _all_ of this, I didn't feel I needed to drive the point home further. He was good enough at torturing himself and certainly didn't need any of my help.

"Hey, don't forget I love you," I reminded him. "You're good, inside, and it's not too late to make things right with him."

He nodded softly, pondering.

"Ya sure know how to pick your friends, Cass," Tulip chimed in. "Are you sure he's okay with this?"

Cass furrowed his eyebrows and looked to me for the answer.

"Yeah, he's cool," I said, with more confidence than I felt.

"He left the door open, didn't he?" Cass joked, though I think he regretted it once the words left his lips, and we made our way through the ancient hallways into Denis' place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so, so much for keeping up and for reading this far! It means a lot to me that you care to follow Ada and Cass along on their adventure, and it's so encouraging to me as a writer that it's not _just_ for me. The next one is coming along nicely and I think you'll all enjoy it.
> 
> As always, if you liked this chapter, or if there's one aspect you like in particular, I'd love to hear from you as I shape what comes next. Comments are my favorite, so please don't be shy!


	27. The Night Of

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cass makes a gesture to patch things up with Denis and Ada, while Tulip wrestles with issues of her own.

"Thank you so much, _Denis_," Cassidy said to his son as we let ourselves in, correcting his pronunciation. There was no mistaking that Denis had noticed, despite his best efforts not to show it.

However Denis felt about it, especially after seven _decades_ of misnaming, it was at least a tiny step in the right direction—and it would be just the first of many. I'd see to that, even if it meant being a little tough on Cass.

As we made our way deeper into the aging and dimly lit apartment, Cassidy directed Tulip to the room where she and Jesse would be staying before he escorted me to his usual quarters.

He closed the door behind us, and I put down my ragged JanSport backpack, and he shoved his pillowcase knapsack into a dresser drawer before we both sat at the edge of the bed and he wrapped his arms around me from the side, in need of consolation. I gripped him back, and he trembled gently.****

"I'm such a fuckin' eedjit Adelaide," he said, his voice low with defeat. "I'm sorry. I just, I didn't know..."

"Hey, now," I said gently. As frustrated as I still was, seeing him like this made it impossible not to be tender with him. He needed kindness more than anything. "I'm not mad at you. You don't anything to make up to me. But you’re going to have to make it up to _him_. And that's gonna take time."

He nodded solemnly.

"And listen," he added with urgency, "when I didn't tell ya he only speaks French, I wasn't tryin' ta keep anytin' from ya. That's just been the nature of tings so long I didn't tink to bring it up. I'm so sorry."

And it was the truth. This shit was eating him up, and as much as it made sense to pile the evidence on now, to really make him _get_ it, he already seemed to be there, and my heart couldn't bear that.

"Apology accepted," I said, giving him a strong squeeze. "But you gotta stop focusing on me. It's gonna be an adjustment, but you're gonna have to start treating _Denis_ with some respect, okay? He's the one who deserves the apology after all these years."

He considered that quietly.

"And what do you tink of him?" Cass asked me. And then in a low tone added, "Be honest."

I sighed deeply.****

"I could have never guessed _your_ son of all people would be such a miserable, mean old man," I answered truthfully. "And man, is he mad at you."

"That's him, alright," Cass said with a brief, sad laugh. "What did he say?"

"Well," I started, "he assumed Tulip and I were prostitutes, for one, and that you were here to party and wreck his house. Probably based on former precedents."

"That's an accurate assessment," Cass admitted.

"I told him I was your wife," I added. "He didn't have much of anything to say about that."

"I don't wager he was expectin' a new ma anytime soon."

"And Proinsias," I said, carefully, "70 years is a _long_ time to call your own son the wrong name. Didn't his mother ever correct you?"

"She didn't speak English, neither," he shrugged.

I gave him a look.

"Listen," he tried to explain. "Jeanne was very pretty and very kind, and fer a little while it seemed the language barrier wouldn't be a big ting. And then it very quickly became one, right?"

I nodded. I could see how Cass could get swept up in that kind of pure romance—and then how badly it could crash and burn, especially with a kid in the picture.That must have been so long ago, now. I wondered what kind of woman she was, though I couldn't envy her circumstances.

"I was stupid, alright?" he said, standing up, and now pacing somewhat.

"Yeah, you were," I smiled gently. "But you were just being you. I can't fault you for that."

"You can't?"

"Like I'm supposed to get mad at you for shit you did 40 years before I was even born?" I asked. "What _would_ hurt me is if you knew all this, if I was begging you to do something, and you still didn't care. But I _know_ you, and it's obvious that you do. What I'm asking is that you put in the effort now. Before it's too late."

"What if... What if it's already too late?" he asked, voice dark and deep as he stopped in front of me, his eyes fixed in the floor.

"Then you try, anyway," I told him. "Because I don't want you to live with the regret of not trying."

"Okay," He grappled with it. "Okay. But where do I even begin?"

"We can start with me translating," I said. "My spoken French is a little spotty, but I can understand it, mostly."

"Every word sounded lovely to me," he told me as he took my hand. "That'll be grand. Tanks. There are so many things I wanna tell 'im."

"And you're gonna practice too, okay?" I told him. "Every night."

He groaned.

"_Every_ night? Do we have to?"

"Yeah," I said. "Until you can talk to your son."

"Why can't he learn English?" he whined.

"_Proinsias_."

"What?"

"He's an old man!" I exclaimed.

"I've got 50 years on him."

"But your brain is still a ripe 16, ready to soak up knowledge like a sponge," I reminded him.

"I shoulda never told ya that," he said, nearly smiling now. "Fine."

"_And_, Cass, you'll need to give him something in exchange for commandeering his home."

He dug in his pockets.

"I still have..." He eyed the half-empty packet of Peanut M&M's from the gas station mini mart, but cut himself off before he finished the absurd thought.

"How much money was in Gary's wallet?" I asked him.

"About a grand..." he started, before muttering, "Ah, shite," when he saw where it was going.

"He deserves as much."

"Isn't money considered a tacky gift, like?"

"Not as tacky as an open bag of candy," I teased.

"I never said..."

"But you were thinking it."

I had him there.

"We could get him something, too," I continued. "The café with the beignets... Do people who live here actually eat them, or are they a tourist thing?"

"I have no idea, but Denis has always liked sugary snacks..."

"_Denis_," he'd said it with the hard S, and I reminded him of the pronunciation.

"Right," he said. "_Denis_ loves his sweets, and I'm 90% positive I've seen him eat beignets at least once, so I tink that'll be nice. I should get that while he's still up. You stay here 'n settle in."

"Thank you, Cass," I told him. "I think he'll really appreciate it."

"And keep an eye on Tulip, will ya?" he asked me "She's been actin' strange. What were ya whisperin' about earlier, by the way?"

"She wouldn't tell me much," I told him. "I think it might have to do with Gary."

"Hmm," he considered.

"But there is one thing that's been on her mind," I remembered. "If you get the chance, could you maybe talk to Jesse? Tulip's kinda been feeling out of the loop. Jesse doesn't tell her everything and she gets the impression she's just getting strung along."

"O' course, love," he said, and then thought it over further. "But with all this secrecy goin' 'round, maybe it's not the best time to get on _his_ case about open communication and that."

"You're not wrong," I told him.

"And I've not forgotten I need to work on that, too," he said. He placed a hand gently under my chin and lifted it, bending down to give me a kiss on the lips. He lingered there for a while, and we savored each others' touch before we parted.

Before he stepped out, Cassidy said Denis's name properly again, then in English told him he'd be out for a few minutes. The man didn't even look away from the old black and white TV.

With Cass gone, I took the opportunity to peruse the place a bit, eyeing the old, peeling wallpaper, bathed in the yellow glow of old bulbs set in many ancient light fixtures. I noticed that Tulip was pacing in her room. With Cass out and Denis not understanding a word, it was time to talk.

I knocked lightly on the open door to make my presence known, careful not to startle her. When she turned to look at me, she seemed exhausted.

"Do you have a minute to talk?" I asked her, and she nodded, but just barely. I sat on their bed as I continued talking to her.

"So look, I'm gonna ask you some questions, and you can answer as many or as few of them as you want," I said. "I just want you to know I'm... wondering."

She didn't say anything, and though I was unsure, I took that as the chance to start.

"You've been a little edgy ever since the thing with Gary," I started. "And then after running into Mrs. Barbaret... well, I've never seen you this scared. I guess my question is, who are we hiding from right now, and how can I help?"

"You just want me to answer that?" Tulip asked.

"Only if you wanna," I said. "Thought it might just feel good to share."

She contorted her face and then said, "Fine."

She went to the window, peeking between the curtains as she scanned the front for signs of danger. "It's this guy Viktor. Mob boss, runs things outta New Orleans."

"How did you get mixed up with him?"

"He had jobs, I needed work. General subcontract stuff," she answered simply.

"And somewhere along the line, things went sour?"

"You can say that," she laughed dryly. "Basically, I screwed him, and now I'm here in his backyard. _Stupid_ New Orleans!"

"What if we didn't stay?" I suggested. "You and me could go somewhere for a while, leave the boys to do their soul searching?"

"Like Cassidy's staying anywhere without you," she mocked. Fair point. "You know how royally that'd piss Jesse off? All three of us deciding we need to take off? He's mad at me enough as it is. I'm stuck here, time bein'."

"He might get it, though," I said. "If he knew why you didn't want to be here, he might understand."

"If he knew why I didn't wanna be here, he'd make it a whole lot worse," she said. "Believe me."

I wanted to tell her that wasn't true, that he loved her and whatever it was, he'd forgive. I didn't have the heart to say something I didn't believe.

"Alright," I said. "Let's talk options. We canbasically hide out here until Jesse finds God."

"That's soundin' like the play, here," she said.

"_Or_," I added, "we can deal with Viktor himself. Either make it up to him or... Take care of him."

I wouldn't normally recommend violence as a course of action, but given Tulip's track record, it made sense—to me at least—not to leave that option off the table.

"_No_," Tulip emphasized. "We're not gonna hurt him, okay? Let's just... avoid him. Sound good?"

That wasn't the reaction I'd been expecting. Now I wasn't sure what to think.

"Uh, thanks for the pep talk and all," she said suddenly, now, "but I think it's time I had a little peace and quiet." She shooed me out the door.

"Alright," I told her as I she moved to close the door. "Have a good night."

"Night," she said, and the door was promptly shut in my face.

In the living room, Denis was leaning back in a ratty leather recliner, sipping a strong drink from a glass as his eyes fixed on a little old black and white TV so old it had dials.

I decided to take a seat at the couch next to him, but was careful not to interrupt his show. He was watching a French dub of _The Three Stooges_, but no matter how how many eyes got poked, how many cheeks got smacked, and how many catchphrases were uttered in bizarrely translated ways, he didn't laugh, or even seem to crack a smile.

As I tried to get invested in the latest misadventure of Larry, Moe and Shemp _en françai_s, the front door opened and Cass entered with a warm grin, holding the straps of two plastic bags—one in each hand.

"_Merci, Denis_," he said, his accent sounding quite good, as he carefully removed a cake box from one of the bags and handed it to his son, with a nice wad of cash sat on top.

Denis stared at the box and money with surprise, then suspicion, as he opened it, revealing a dozen perfectly fried pastries topped with a delicate layer of powdered sugar. Finally he nodded with an expression of something like gratitude, pocketed the money, and started chowing down. At long last, he seemed a little satisfied.****

Cass took a seat beside me on the couch.

"Would ya mind translatin' fer me?" he asked. I was happy to.

"I just wanted to say thank ya fer lettin' us stay," he said, and I did my best to repeat in French. His tone was so warm, so gentle, despite the fact he knew it could never be enough. "Listen, no need to go to any trouble. We're gettin' ourselves settled in back there all right. And I got another friend coming over, too. He's a preacher. A man of God, _Denis_. We're on a really big mission. It's important stuff. Really, it is."

I could tell it stung when, even understanding his meaning, Denis just grunted and nodded slightly in response as he kept eating.

"_Three Stooges_," Cass continued, vainly trying to connect. I kept translating. "It's a classic, isn't it? In any language that's good."

Cass laughed out loud, but Denis only coughed a couple times, dry and deep from his lungs.

"All right," Cass finally said. "We'll leave you to it."

Cass gestured to our room, and he took my hand as we both retreated there.

"That seemed to go well," I told him, hopefully, as I sat at the edge of the bed.

"As well as it could have," he answered with a little nod. "I tink it was the right thing to do. I feel... good. By the way, I brought ya a little sometin."

He dangled the remaining bag in front of me and pulled out the little yellow pastry box inside, handing it to me out in front of him with two cautious hands.

"I figured, we didn't have much in the way of a traditional weddin', but there's no excuse for not havin' a bit o' cake."

"Cass, you didn't have to..."

"But I wanted to," he smiled sweetly. "Open it."

I pulled open two small flaps on the side of the box and lifted the lid away to reveal two huge, beautifully decorated cupcakes. Each one was topped single perfectly round blueberry atop a layer of twisty piped, slightly yellow, frosting. My mouth watered at the sight of them.

"These are gorgeous," I said. "Thank you."

"I figure ya don't want to smush cake in each other's faces?" he asked. He knew me so well.

"I'd rather not."

"Then can I feed you at least?" he asked.

"That can be arranged," I answered with a grin.

He sat down next to me, and Cass gently took one of the cupcakes and peeled back a bit of the vibrant teal paper liner. I opened wide as he brought it in close, and then I took a great big bite.

The moment the bright flavor filled my mouth, I immediately craved more. The cake was moist and packed with fresh lemon flavor, with tart blueberries sprinkled throughout, and the smooth cream cheese frosting was also tinged with the zest of lemon. It was the best cupcake I'd ever tasted.

"It's _so_ good, Cass. You have to try it," I urged.

I watched him as he took his first bite. He looked almost baffled by how delicious it was.

"Holy shit, ya weren't kiddin'. D'ya mind if I have the rest o' this one?" he asked. When I said no, he shoved the rest of the giant cupcake in his mouth and got it down in a single bite.

As he gulped it down, he motioned for me to have the rest of the second cupcake, and I happily obliged. This one, I nibbled at delicately. This was my wedding cake, after all. I wanted to built up this memory, to make it last.

I saw this twinkle in his eye then, as if he were thinking _I wonder how many foreskins went into these here cupcakes _but didn't dare say it. I giggled quietly to myself and he grinned.

Cassidy waited patiently as I ate, and when I'd finally consumed the last crumb, he leaned over and kissed me roughly on the mouth, eager and wanting and with the lovely taste of lemon still lingering on his breath.

"Seein' as it's our weddin' night, Adelaide," he said after just slightly pulling away, the low hum of his voice intoxicating in my ear, "is there anything special you'd like for this momentous occasion?"

"I just want you, Proinsias," I told him, and he grinned devilishly. "I want you to have your way with me."

"There've been a coupla tings I've been wantin' to do wit ya, if you're amenable."

"Oh, I'm amenable," I told him.

"Well, first tings first, I've a question fer ya."

"And what's that?"

"You didn't happen to pack any toys on this little trip o' ours?" he asked with a cheeky snarl.

"I've just got the one," I said, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, surprised at how comfortable I was with sharing this detail I would have usually kept so secret.

"Would ya mind describin' it to me?"

"Well it's a, uh... clit stimulator, I guess?" I explained, getting a little stimulated just saying it out loud. "It's not, uh, _penetrative_. It's just got a little suctiony thing."

"Now how long were ya gonna keep _that _a secret from me, now?" he teased, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, so far I haven't needed it when you've been around," I laughed. "Packed it out of habit, mostly."

"Got a lot of good use out of it between our meetin's in Annville though, didn't ya?"

"Yessir," I admitted, thinking back to the lonely nights I'd spent in my apartment imagining his tongue working me into a frenzy as the device buzzed in my hand. "I couldn't get you out of my head."

"I'm glad I wasn't the only one," he grinned. "Woulda been kinda sad, wankin' furiously in a church attic at someone who wasn't touchin' herself, too."

The conversation was too much. Isaw the strong bulge growing in his pants, and cupped my hand over it. He moaned lightly and kissed me again.

"Now before we get started, ya mind tellin' me where yer keepin' yer little toy?"

I told him it was in my backpack, in the mesh compartment at the front of the main pouch, hidden among my underwear. It didn't take him long to find it, discrete in its silky black drawstring bag.

Next, he removed it, a grey bean-shaped object, sized to fit snugly in the palm of the hand, with an open cylindrical mouth on one end, ending in a little pit just big enough to accommodate my clit.

"How do ya work this ting?" he asked, and the thought of him using it on me made me clench my legs together in anticipation.

"It's the little plus button there," I told him. He pressed it, and it started vibrating quite loudly before Cass quickly turned it off again. So much for being advertised as whisper-silent.

"This ting packs a punch, eh?" he smiled softly. I nodded with a blush. Cass then went to the corner of the room to turn on the dusty radio sitting there.

"Just to cover the noise we're about to make," he explained as he turned a knob until he got to an inoffensive station. Nondescript, wordless jazz would do nicely, and he placed the toy aside for a second before he spoke again.

"Now how would ya feel about that lap dance I promised ya?" he asked.

"I'd like nothing better," I told him. It was good to know he was a man who kept his word.

Somehow, we got the luck of the track on the radio being a bit sexy, full of sultry saxophone and intrigue. To the music, he undressed down to his briefs, and as I sat at the bed's edge, I watched as he started to slowly gyrate his hips, moving in a way that pulled my eyes down to his groin, flaunting the massive erection that was already pressing against the cotton.

Now he danced against me, teasing every bit of me by not quite making contact against my skin, but being close enough that his hairs brushed me, his heat warmed me, and his woodsy scent filled my lungs, utterly intoxicating to the senses. It was silly, but I wanted so badly for his cock to just graze my leg as he straddled me, increasing my desire with every passing movement.

Now he took my hands, placing them on his chest. I got such a thrill out of touching him, then, fingers against hard muscle and the tickle of chest hair, and I looked back up at his face, those sharp hazel eyes intently focused on me, ensuring my pleasure with every movement, at every second. His hot breath against my skin reinforced just how close our bodies were, how the slightest shift could result in our bodies being pressed together as one.

And just as I was getting used to that, he stepped back, breaking the contact, before he returned, facing away from me as he swayed, this time practically sitting in my lap, taking my hands in his and guiding me as I touched his body. He started with his nipples, rock hard from excitement, and spent some time there before we made our way south, trailing down his ribs, over his lean, tight stomach. We paused there for a long time as he continued to rock in my lap, and then at long last, he brought my hands down, teasingly, to each of his inner thighs.

How long could he tempt me like this? Perhaps he was also getting impatient, because it wasn't long before he took my right hand and positioned it just so, so that it only barely grazed his rigid cock. Now he let me touch more deeply, cupping him, touching him to make him grow somehow even stiffer. I badly wanted to reach beneath his covering, to pull and tug at him and take all of him in my mouth, but he kept the hand at just the right distance to make that impossible.

Now he rose again, this time making sure his quivering cock, shielded only by a thin layer of fabric, was right in my face. If this went on any longer, I thought I might burst.

But then he uttered exactly the words I wanted to hear.

"Now lay back on the bed," he murmured, low and lustful, and I obliged.

I was still dressed, but he made quick work of getting me out of my clothes, sliding off each garment with a little bit of my help, saving the panties for the very last.

"How would ya like it if we fingered yer special spot again?" he asked, cuddling up to me from the side.

"I'd like that very much," I squeaked, needing that more than I'd needed anything before.

"Wish granted," he growled, and carefully cupped a hand over all of me, extending a middle finger and gliding inside of me until he was up to his knuckles in my already soaked pussy. He started rubbing where it got me, remembering the location perfectly from that wonderful time in the shower, and I began to moan gently as I felt the sensation begin to build.

"My God, yer wet. Ya know, Adelaide," he crooned as he crooked his finger within me, "I'm really lucky to have ya. I love spendin' time wit ya, and bein' able to make ya laugh. And I especially love makin' ya cum."

"Oh fuck, Cass," I groaned with mounting pleasure, "I love all the ways you make me cum."

"Yer so tight 'n lovely, ya know that?" he continued as I involuntary clenched around his mighty finger. "Yeh've got the prettiest little cunt I've ever seen. I love makin' it happy. I love makin' ya scream because I love you."

"Fuck, Cass, I love you so much," I nearly shouted as I got closer and closer to the peak. "_Ohhh_ fuck."

"Yer nearly there, I can feel it," he encouraged. How could a single digit feel this good inside of me? I had to stretch my legs out as far as they would go, bracing against the bed for the orgasm that was going to rock my world in three, two...

"There it is," he whispered. "There you go." He was rubbing inside me harder then ever and I came intensely, bucking against his hand, unable to contain my moans as I felt my insides convulse against him. He continued to massage me and it went on for a long time before I was finally left panting, trying to regain my breath.

It was then that Cassidy retrieved his hand from inside me, and reached over for my toy.

"You up fer givin' this a whirl?" he asked, and I told him I was very up.

He took the device, wrapped an arm over me and placed its little mouth above my clit, pressing the button as he held me. It instantly started whirring and sucking and I moaned as it worked me. As I got used to the tense speed, Cass pushed the button to increase the strength again, and again, and I climaxed another time, almost too quickly so the feeling could barely build, jerking my body against him and shouting, unable to resist its strength.

He turned it off, then, and tossed it to the side.

"Ya ready for this cock?" he asked me. Of course I was.

He climbed over me and, kissing me hard, finally penetrated me, and I exhaled loudly at the wonderful sensation of him.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, wanting him as deeply and fully as possible, but as he filled me, the springs of the mattress squeaked loudly, and the brass bed frame creaked, and its unevenness made it slam against the wood floors as it wobbled.

Cass paused.

"Sorry love," he said. "Let's try sometin' a bit quieter."

He motioned for me to scoot forward to the end of the bed, then he stood up. I spread myself wide for him as I lay down, and he pushed his hard cock deep inside me from his standing position, taking the ankles of my splayed legs in each hand. God, this angle allowed him to go _so_ deep, and I cherished every rough stroke within me. He growled deep as he fucked me.

"Now... ooh," he started before getting distracted by the sensation of it all. "I want ya to use yer little friend there while I make love to ya."

Without a word, I grabbed the toy again, activating it and holding it to my throbbing clit, its powerful pleasure rippling through me, making my pussy squeeze so very tight against Cass's thick cock.

"I want us to cum together," he announced gently. "Let's try."

"I wanna cum with you, Proinsias," I gasped, but God this thing worked fast, I was gonna be too early as I felt the waves rocking through me.

"Fuck, Cass," I moaned, "I'm already cumming, _fuck_." And it tore through me and made me spasm and grip him tight, expanding each stroke of my pleasure deeper by never letting up until my clit was so sensitive I had to pull it away.

"Mmm, you're just getting warmed up," he cooed with a smile as he fucked. "Next one, we're both ridin' it out together, yeah?"

This time, I brought the power down, gazing at him dreamily as those strong vibrations returned to my most sensitive spot, intensifying every perfect motion Cass made inside me with his powerful cock.

We stared, hard and long, into each other's eyes, pure pleasure made more intense by pure connection. His strokes were strong and slow, and this time, the more my climax built within me, the closer he matched my internal intensity. Before I knew it, he was going faster now, harder, and I knew he was getting close, just as close as I was, and I warned him again before the spasms shook me with pure ecstasy, tightening around him before he let out a pleasured moan of his own and filled me with his seed with a few final, mighty thrusts, leaving us calling out our love, our joy, in gracious unison.

He smiled at me as he panted, a light coat of sweat making the black tattoo ink shine on his skin.

"Did you ever tink this is what married life would be?" he smirked.

"With you?" I smiled back. "Always."

* * *

I fell asleep almost immediately afterward, but I don't think it was long before the sensation of falling made me jolt awake suddenly. Cass was already snoring gently beside me. I tried for a few minutes to get back to bed, but now feeling restless, I decided to throw my clothes back on and explore the place to see if Denis might have some light nighttime reading around to help me rest my mind. I needed a good test of my French reading comprehension, anyway.

As I stepped back into the living room, Denis was asleep in his chair in front of the TV and Tulip was putting on a jacket, looking ready to take off.

"You goin' somewhere?" I asked her. I think she was surprised to see that I was awake.

"Just to get smokes," she brushed me off.

"I'm coming with," I insisted. She shouldn't be alone. Not now.

"I'll be okay," she said.

"What about Viktor?" I asked her.

"If Viktor shows up, then it won't be safe for you."

"That's all the more reason we should both go," I told her. "Safety in numbers, right? We'll look after each other."

“What about Cass?”

“He’s asleep,” I said.

"And if we're not back before he wakes up?"

"I'll leave him a note," I said. "Here..."

I found a notepad and a pen, and scrawled something for him.

_Went out with Tulip,_ it read._ If I'm not back and you need me, text her. Love you, Ada. _

"There," I said. "Any more objections?"

"No, not really," she said, but she wasn't happy about it. I threw on a jacket of my ownand we stepped out into the night.

We walked in the cool, humid night past a number of late-night spots that would definitely sell cigs, but Tulip ignored them all. Perhaps these places were too well-populated, too open. We'd walked a while longer before Tulip spotted the Black & Gold Wash & Fold, a little laundromat that seemed reasonable to her.

This was one of those 24-hour places, incredibly dark inside, and lit only by a few decaying bulbs. It was basically empty, save for one employee and a couple of worn out folks folding piles of clean laundry. None of the machines were running.

I followed Tulip as she approached the change machine. She reached into her pocket, and pulled out a wad of cash, but as she sorted through it, she realized she didn’t have anything on her under $100.

“You bring any cash?” she asked me. I hadn’t—anyhow, Cass and I only had big bills, too—and Tulip had to bug the laundromat worker, who was flipping through the pages of a newspaper, to make change.

All he had was five bucks, but Tulip needed her cigarettes, and she wasn’t going to be picky. The man happily pocketed the large bill, grabbing Tulip’s $5 out of the pocket of his romper.

She took it back to the change machine, smoothed out the bill, and inserted it before quarters loudly rattled into the outlet below. Then she took her change to the Pilgrims cigarette machine and, one by one, started inserting her coins.

Outside the front of the laundromat, tires screeched. I stood behind Tulip as she continued, eyes focused on the machine, slowly slotting in her money, and then the front doors slammed open.

“Everyone out. _Now_!” ordered one of the men. The laundromat attendant and the other two left quietly with their laundry, but I stayed put as these thugs, big and threatening, piled in.

There were maybe eight of them, but Tulip remained still, inserting her quarters with a terrified look on her face. I looped an arm around her free one, refusing to budge, and she continued until she’d paid enough, and the her pack of cigarettes was finally dispensed.

Only then did she finally turn to face the men. They didn’t seem bothered by the fact that I’d stuck around. These guys were seasoned professionals.

"Viktor, we got her," the biggest of the bunch said into his bluetooth earpiece.

I'd never seen Tulip look so defenseless as she did then, all the fight drained right out of her, and it terrified me.

"Gun," he said, and wordlessly, Tulip reached into her jacket and pulled out a concealed revolver. I'd had zero idea she'd been packing. I soon understood there must be a lot I didn't know about the situation.

Silently, the men ushered us into the back of one of three black SUVs. We were nestled in between two towering men in the back seat, and one vehicle ran ahead of us, and another behind us, so that even if Tulip were to pull something, they'd be fully prepared. These guys must have known her well.

As we drove, Tulip looked down between her feet and said nothing, leaving me to wonder what the hell I'd gotten myself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you _so_ much for reading this! I always appreciate feedback and comments, so if you liked it or there was something you'd like to see more of, please don't hesitate to drop a line!


	28. The Ruse at Kruglov Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Ada discovers the truth behind Tulip's suspicious behavior, she hatches a scheme to get them both out of their messy situation.

The ride to Viktor's felt quite tense, at first. Still, despite being surrounded by burly, armed men, something gave me the sense that we weren’t in any immediate danger. I should have been terrified, but I didn't believe there was any need. It almost felt as if they were guarding us from outside forces, if anything, and I felt myself relax more as the drive continued.

Tulip, on the other hand, was anything but calm. She wouldn't look at me, and her leg fidgeted as she clutched my hand in fear, almost painfully tight. Even then, if that was one small thing I could do to reassure her, I was happy to do so. Perhaps it was her fear that motivated my courage.

We drove long into the night, criss-crossing the city, making loops down and back around avenues that grew more familiar with each traversal. I tried to make sense of it, but it was late. Before long, I grew tired again, and at some point, I fell back asleep.

When I awoke, it was light out, and I realized I was leaning on one the grunts in the car with us. I had even drooled a little on his jacket.

I straightened up, wiped my mouth, and apologized to him. He just smiled lightly, with a little nod. These dudes weren't so scary after all. My curiosity about the situation and these people grew as my drowsiness faded.

Not long after that, we came upon our destination. It was a huge stone mansion protected by many guards at its small wrought-iron gate. Whoever this Viktor guy was, he was seriously connected—and seriously loaded.

When the SUV was parked, we were both escorted outside. A man in sunglasses approached from the house. He wanted to speak with me. 

"We have no business with you," he told me. "You're free to go whenever you please."

I didn't consider it long. They weren't getting rid of me that easily.

"I'm staying with Tulip," I asserted, sidling close to her.

He just shrugged and said, "Suit yourself."

From there, we were walked down beautifully manicured garden paths to the front of the house. It was nice, despite the constant threat of armed men.

Once we were inside the lavish place, with parquet floors and pricey furnishings and crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, they led us through a foyer, past a staircase and straight into an extravagant office. I got the distinct feeling that Tulip already knew the way as one of the men held her by the arm to ensure she played nice.

We took our seats at two French-style arm chairs with ornate gilded details, which sat at one side of a rich mahogany desk. Another chair stood at the other side, facing us.

On the desk were a fancy crystal ash tray and paperweight, a wooden tissue box, a desk lamp, and some kind of ledger. I watched Tulip eye these objects, which could no doubt be weaponized if things took a turn.

To our right, two large windows overlooked the property. Between them sat a painting of some flowers, which stood above a serving cart carrying many glass decanters full of pricey alcohol. There were also book shelves behind us, as well as to our right, that seemed to hold many volumes of legal texts.

The home was certainly imposing. I imagined this was what it might be like to get called into the principal office—if instead of detention, the consequence might be having some cinder blocks tied to you before you get dumped in a swamp.

Through large wooden doors at the end of the left side of the room, a man's bloodcurdling cries of pain rang out, following by the sounds of clashing metal, and maybe breaking bones. What the hell _was_ this place?

Tulip continued to fidget. When she turned to look me straight in the eye, she saw my expression and felt compelled to speak.

"Before you start, I don't wanna talk about this, okay?" she said quietly.

It must have been clear I wanted to ask every question. Instead, I kept my mouth shut.

She then averted her gaze and shook her head a little, realizing how harsh that had sounded.

"But look," she added. "I'm glad you came with me and that you're stickin' by me. I'd rather have you here with me than anybody, okay?”

"That's why I'm here," I smiled back at her. I hoped the gesture was even somewhat comforting to her.

Then there was a buzzing sound. Tulip dug around in her pockets. It was her phone.

She stared down at her messages, and then scrunched her face.

"Deal with this," she said, tossing me the phone. It buzzed again a couple more times before I could even glance at it.

"Where R U?!?!?” read a first text from Cassidy. Then "Is Ada OK?!?!?” and “TULIP!!!???”

It was impossible to know whether Cass was actually frantic and panicking or just slightly concerned. I hated to make him sorry. Either way, I still needed to teach him a thing or two about texting etiquette, but it would be good to get back to him as soon as I could.

"And do _not _give him the chance to tell Jesse what's going on," Tulip added.

"Sure," I muttered. "Piece of cake."

"Hey, it's Ada. Sorry to worry you Cass <3," I typed out. "We're still out dealing with Tulip's little problem. We're fine. Please don't mention it to Jess."

The second I hit the send button, I saw the three dots indicating he was texting back. But then the door that might have led to a torture chamber slid open.

I pocketed the phone just in case it might be considered contraband. It buzzed again, but I didn't dare look at it just yet.

"Keep at it," directed a man as he entered the room, shedding the protective blue layer of plastic he'd been wearing over his tailored suit. He was older, bald, and had a low, gravely voice that conveyed a certain level of calm and authority. "This might be one of those all-day things.”

He stepped in, eyed us both, and then sat down in his chair, leaning back to view us. He was silent for a long time. It seemed Tulip couldn't bear to look him in the eye. Meanwhile, I tried to keep my cool, ignoring the doubts and anxieties that bubbled within me.

_"_It's good to have you back, Tulip," he finally started, his tone firm but not unfriendly. "And you brought a friend."ac

She didn't respond, and he stood to walk around his desk to my side and extended a hand.

"Viktor Kruglov," he introduced himself, and I stood and shook his hand, staring him in the eye and putting way too much thought into the firmness of my handshake. For whatever reason, I felt compelled to make a good impression.

"Ada..." I began, almost automatically revealing my new surname, before struggling to even remember my maiden name. It was a strange sensation, and soon I settled for remaining on first name terms with him.

That seemed to satisfy Viktor, and he gave me an efficient nod. Then, he placed his hands on the desk, clasped lightly, and turned to look at Tulip.

“So?” he said. “What are we going to do with you?”

Until now, she wasn't looking at him, but when she finally did, she burst into soft tears. I hadn't seen her cry before, not even shed a single teardrop, and all I could do was wonder what this was. How it could scare her so much. I wanted to comfort her, and instinctively reached out a hand to her arm. Emotionally, she was in a completely different place.

"I'm sorry," she answered quietly, too shocked to say much else. She wasn't one to apologize, either. Everything about this felt so strange.

He watched her. His gaze was gentle, but unwavering. Now he walked behind both of us and around the front of the table, grabbing a tissue from the box in front of Tulip and handing it to her.

"Here," Viktor said, handing it to her. She clutched the tissue and dabbed her cheeks. "No more crying, okay?”

She nodded in agreement with half a smile.

“’Cause crying isn't gonna fix this."

Tulip tensed again.

"I brought you in," he continued. "I trusted you, made you a part of my family. And in return you made a fool out of me."

"I'm sorry," she said again, shaking her head. "I don't know what else to say."

"Well, you better think of something 'cause 'sorry' isn't gonna fix this either," he said curtly.

He never raised his voice, and his tone wasn't threatening. Just stern.

I knew Tulip could deal with people being pissed at her, but maybe disappointment was another monster altogether.

As she considered that, there was a knock from the other room. I realized the screams had ended and it had been silent for a moment.

A man wearing a blood-stained plastic apron over a suit let himself in the room, saying something about how someone was conscious—but that he might not be for long.

It seemed Viktor had to tend to that business, but before he excused himself, he spoke again.

"Walk around," he told Tulip. "Clear your head. Talk it over with your little friend. And when I ask you again, give me a better answer."

He left us. Tulip remained seated for a while, and I sat beside her as she regained her composure.

"You alright?" I asked her, squeezing her arm, knowing it probably did little to soothe her.

She sniffed deeply and wiped away the remaining tears with her tissue.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she said, her voice almost steady now.

The man in the bloody apron was still standing in the doorway.

"Hey Tulip," he said.

"Hey Pat," she responded dryly.

He slid the door closed and let us be. Then I felt another vibration in my pocket.

"Where R U? R U OK???” Cass had replied. Another text read "Ada??" and yet another said "ADA?!?!"

"We're okay!" I texted back as fast as my fingers could type. "Don't know the address, but if things get hairy I'll let you know ASAP. Thanks for checking in, Cass. I love you."

"Love U 2," he texted back. "Let me know OK?”

"We will <3," I responded.

"You done?" Tulip asked me after that text.

"I think so," I told her. I hoped it wouldn't come to Cass getting involved. I'd rather not give him an actual reason to fear for my life.

"Good," she said, appearing to have put herself in a much better mood. "Now, you wanna see some of Viktor's house? He's got _two_ pools."

While we clearly had more important things to discuss, the offer was tempting, and I had to take her up on it.

As she walked me through the place, it appeared Pat the butcher was the only goon in the house who'd even acknowledge our presence.

We wandered into an open area where five men, a couple sporting Steven Seagal-style ponytails, gathered around the table for a game of poker, cash bets gathered in a pile at the center.

"Hey guys! How you been?" Tulip attempted to greet them. They turned to look at her, but soon pretended she didn't exist. "Hey, Jimmy, you still playing with this guy? He will rob you blind." She chuckled.

"This guy" didn't like the insinuation, and drew his cards closer to him so that Tulip couldn't see.

These people didn't seem like hardened criminals. They might be friendly, even. I could see how Tulip had been part of the gang, once upon a time.

Not getting what she wanted there, we made our way into a big, bright kitchen with marble counters and backsplash. A maid cooked, and the the spicy seafood aroma of étouffée with sausage hung in the air. The dish simmered over the stove, and three more men gathered around the countertops.

"Mmm," Tulip continued. "Something smells good." More of the cold shoulder.

Another dude with the beginnings of a ponytail took a bite of the meal out of a shallow bowl.

"Pete, Nick... please," she pleaded with them. "I know I messed up big-time..."

The two guys in the back almost faltered. They didn't _want_ to treat her like this. But they had jobs to do, and their loyalties rested with the big boss.

"We need more salt," Nick interrupted, and the maid added another dash.

Being ignored was getting to Tulip. Not too long ago, this had been her team. Now they wanted nothing to do with her, and the hurt was evident on her face.

Discouraged, she led us up the stairs and down a hall, which seemed to lead to little breakout meeting rooms and more bedrooms than I could count.

Eventually, we landed in a big conference room centered around a huge rounded wooden table, with a golden chandelier dangling above its center. There were five chairs on each side of the table, and at the head of it, a girl of 12 or 13 in a pink unicorn shirt was stringing tiny colored rubber bands together with a Rainbow Loom. What she was doing in a place like this, I had no idea.

"Hey Allie," Tulip said to her, and she looked up from her project. Tulip sat down in the chair closest to her, and I took a seat to the other side of Tulip. "How you doing? You got so big, huh?"

I'm not sure why I expected Allie to treat her any differently than the guys. She said nothing.

"Those bracelets are pretty," Tulip continued, leaning in closer. "You make 'em?"

Then, in a move I'm sure neither of us expected, the girl spat derisively in Tulip's face.

"I hope my father kills you," she said passionately. The mature tone of her voice disturbed me.

Tulip recoiled in shock, and I quickly grabbed her hand and led her out of the room to get her out of the situation as fast as I could.

We slipped into the nearest bathroom, walls a blinding white, and I unrolled a wad of toilet paper—cushy, luxurious stuff—before tearing it off and handing it to Tulip to clean her face.

"Thanks," she said, wiping off and then staring herself down in the mirror. She then dug around in the medicine cabinet, immediately finding a bottle of expensive face wash, and gave herself an additional cleanse in the sink.

"So... What was that all about?" I asked her.

"Viktor's daughter,” she explained. “She's mad."

Like that last bitpart wasn't obvious.

"And you still don't wanna talk any of this?" I prodded.

"No," she said. "Not really. In fact, I just got an idea."

She perked right up at the thought, and yet again I followed her out of the bathroom, and down two different hallways into a room with a large fireplace and a tall gun safe.

Tulip immediately walked up to the safe and started twisting the lock—clockwise, then counter-clockwise, then clockwise again—and pulled the handle, but to no avail. She tried again. Nope. Bad luck. She swore.

"Looking for a gun, huh?" asked Nick with the almost-ponytail as he walked in behind us. "In the old gun safe maybe? Yeah. We changed the combo a month ago."

Before Nick could even know what was happening, Tulip sucker punched him and gave him a strong kick to the gut. He reached for his pistol, but with a couple more strong punches, he lost his grip on the gun. It fell to the floor, and tumbled toward me on the carpet.

Both of them looked at me for a second before they lunged at it, but I was able to bend down and scoop it up first. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing with it, or even if I was holding it properly, but I pointed it at Nick, trying my best to keep my hands steady. He raised his hands in surrender before Tulip smashed his head against the wall, knocking him out in an instant.

"Nice work," Tulip grinned as she collected the weapon from me and tucked it into the back of her pants, and then I chased her as she stepped out. She made her way up a stairway, passing another maid, on the hunt for Viktor.

We soon made it to his bedroom, where he was wearing only a towel around his waist, laying a fresh suit out on his bed.

He didn’t see us before Tulip raised the weapon to the back of his head.

"Let us go,” she said quietly.

"No," he answered, voice cool.

"Let us go, Viktor, or I swear to God, I will blow your brains out," she threatened, the gun pressed to his flesh, her finger resting against the trigger. Earlier, that hadn’t been an option, but maybe now she was desperate enough to put that back on the table.

"Yeah? So do it," he dared. He turned to face her, the gun straight in his face, and then right at his mouth. "Come on. Now's your chance. Do it."

For a second, I believed she might. But she faltered again. She couldn't bring herself to pull the trigger.

And then a group of men burst into the room and I was pushed to the floor, pinned down securely, but gently. Tulip was also taken down, and the gun was wrestled away from her. Of course, she fought back. I heard her knock away goons until someone landed a punch at the back of her head that stopped her, for the time being.

"Alright, alright," I heard Viktor announce. "That's enough."

"Want me to have a crack at her, boss?" it sounded like Pat, the torture expert.

"No thank you, Pat," Viktor answered. "Leave her to me."

They let us go, with one of the guys helping me off the floor before they all left us alone again. Then it was just the three of us in the bedroom.

"Excuse me for a moment, and please take a seat." Viktor gestured to the plush stools that sat at one side of the room, beside the bed. He disappeared into the en suite for a minute, and came back in slacks and a button-up shirt.

This time, when Tulip couldn't look at him, I got it.

"Tell me, Ada," Viktor said comfortably as he sat on his bed, "how much has your friend Tulip told you about our little situation here?"

I decided to answer honestly. What else could I do in this spot? I cautiously kept Tulip in my peripheral vision, hoping to know if I wound up saying anything out of line.

"I'm aware that she worked for you for a while," I started. "That New Orleans is your territory. Along the way she... Well she let you down, and she's not exactly proud of how things worked out."

Tulip nodded. That was satisfactory, apparently.

He actually chuckled lightly at that.

"Is that all?" he asked. I didn't understand. "And she hasn't mentioned the..._extent_ of our professional relationship?"

Tulip shot him a look, and suddenly the pieces came crashing into place and all if this made sense. She saw it in my eyes.

"Ada I..." she started to explain.

"Tell her, Tulip," Viktor said. The words were soft, but it was a demand nonetheless.

"Viktor's my... husband," she finally admitted, and though it was clear, it was still so strange to hear her utter those words.

I opened my mouth to speak, but I found myself dumbfounded. I could only stare at Tulip.

She looked ashamed, and lost, like one more person knowing this secret was one person too much. She teared up again, and then looked away.

"The lies, Tulip," Viktor said. "They catch up with you, eventually. It's not sustainable."

Tulip stared up at the ceiling, not sure where else she could look.

"Ada, perhaps you've found that your loyalty is misplaced," he added. "You know, Tulip, you're very good at alienating the very people who actually do care about you."

Her face told me all she wanted now was to disappear. From Viktor. From me. From the world.

And all _he_ wanted was an explanation as to why she'd done this to him. Too bad the answer was that she’d swiftly choose misery for a chance at any life with Jesse Custer in it.

Clearly, that wasn't what he was looking for.

But maybe I could give him a response that would satisfy him.

"I forgive you, Tulip," I said, and after wiping her eyes, she managed to look back at me. "Whatever this is, we'll get through it alright?"

I reached a hand out to her. She took it, fingers gripped tensely, and nodded quickly, her big, dark eyes wet with tears.

And then the big lie came.

"I'm just glad I finally know why you wouldn't marry me back in Annville," I smiled, and I managed to summon a fraction of the whirlwind I'd experienced in the last few days into real tears. I was surprised how easy it was.

She watched me, and a believable expression of new guilt washed over her face.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, Ada," she answered passionately, without missing a beat. A true professional. "I was just so scared you'd hate me."

"You?" I asked with a little laugh." I could _never _hate you."

Then I leaned over toward her, and she stretched out toward me, and we kissed, her touch so tender, so grateful and warm. I hoped Viktor was convinced by our little act, because I nearly was, swept up in the moment.

"I love you, y'know," I said when our lips parted, and I meant it, in my own way.

"I love you, too Ada," she answered with a little smile.

When Viktor cleared his throat, we both straightened up in our seats. He looked at us both, studying our every movement. He was no dummy. He knew how cunning Tulip was. For once, I was the wild card, and that came with its own unique thrill.

"Tulip, would you mind if I spoke to Ada in private for a moment?" he asked.

"Sure," she said. As she got up to leave the room, she gave me a soft peck on the temple and ran the soft tips of her fingers over one of my hands. I smiled gently as I watched her step out and then close the door behind her.

Viktor was still analyzing me when I turned back around to face him.

"She's going to break your heart, you know," Viktor said to me bluntly. There was no malice in his voice. Just a new kind of understanding.

I sighed deeply.

"You're probably right," I told him. "But a woman like that? Any time with her is worth having your heart broken, isn't it?"

I hoped I wasn't being to obvious. My heart was running so fast.But my words seemed to ring true with him.

"And how long have the two of you...?"

"Uh, about a month," I answered. That was as long as I'd known her. "I realize this all sounds kinda rash. But we've been through a lot together in that time."

"You mentioned Annville?" he asked. "I heard the place was blown off the map."

"Yeah, we got out of there by the skin of our teeth, basically," I said. "We've had a rough couple of days. She's been wishing she'd done things differently. I think that's what brought us back here in the first place."

He nodded, and then stared me down. Then he rose, and stepped over to a cabinet with a drawer. From inside, he procured a stack of papers, with little flagged notes sticking out every so often, tossing it on the bed.

"What's that?" I asked him.

"Divorce paperwork," he answered. "Convince me I should sign these and let Tulip loose. Convince me you're the real deal."

It only took me a second to gather my thoughts

"Tulip's the toughest gal I've ever met," I told him, speaking from my heart. "She's got a strength like I've never seen and the wits to get herself out of any mess she finds herself in. She's beautiful and she takes no shit, and maybe that's why she's been hurt so much in the past. She's been abandoned too many times, and I need her to know I'll never do that to her."

"You saw that too, huh?" he asked me. "When Tulip came to work for me a couple years back, I could see she'd just been through something. I could see it in her eyes, you know. But she never talked about it. Never said a word about it one way or the other. She was always tough. She was tougher than any of my guys, I'll tell you. That's for sure. But I always wondered what it was. A strong woman like this? A hard woman like this? What sort of fresh hell did she crawl out of?"

"I wish she'd tell me," I shook my head, knowing full well who was responsible for that hurt. "Maybe someday. But she needs someone who'll take care of her. And I want to thank _you _for taking care of her when you did."

"You're welcome," he said, and he meant it.

We were silent for a bit, and I tried not to tremble as the adrenaline coursed through my veins. I thought I'd sold our little story when Viktor spoke again.

"One more thing," he said.

"What's that?"

"You and Tulip, you've been intimate, yes?"

"Yeah," I answered. So far, the times I could actually tell the truth were a lot simpler than making up lies in the spot.

"What can you tell me about that experience that'll convince me you're really her lover, and not just a very convincing con?"

The man really was not dumb, I'd give him that.

I thought back to our night in my apartment, how consumed I'd been by the experience up until Cass arrived, the perfection of her small, thin body against mine.

"Besides the fact that she is... _phew_, something else, she's got a band of scar tissue on her left breast," I recalled, "probably from a knife fight. And a little birthmark, almost shaped like a heart, in her, uh, pubic area."

His gaze was so intense on me now that it made my skin feel hot. He was considering. And then he grabbed the receiver at the phone next to his bed, pressed a button and said, "Get Tulip back in here."

It wasn't long before the door to the room reopened and Tulip marched back inside, retaking her seat.

Then, right in front of her, he opened a night stand and pulled out a little case, from which he procured an elegant black fountain pen, and signed the first page of his stack of documents. He then flipped through to each subsequent sticky note and signed there as well. When he was done, he pushed the stack to the edge of the bed and spun it around 180°, so it was legible to her.

"What, these are..." Tulip muttered, not quite believing it.

"Yeah," Viktor said, handing her the pen. "Know that I'm only doing this because you're in good hands, and do _not_ take this generosity lightly."

"Thank you, Viktor," she said as she scratched what was barely a signature on each of the pages. "Thank you."

And then, when she had finished inking her final autograph, she stood, practically hopping in my lap, and gave me a hard, lingering kiss that made my head spin. She smiled that great white smile of hers, got back up, and sat down happily on her stool again.

Viktor said his lawyer would take care of the paperwork, and though Tulip was skeptical of that at first, his promise sounded sincere enough that she eventually took him at his word.

He phoned his guys to get one of the drivers to take his home, and wished us well. We both thanked him profusely all the while as he slipped me a business card.

"You ever find yourselves in trouble, don't hesitate to contact me," he told me. Now that could come in handy.

"And one last thing," he said as we were heading out the door. We turned to look at him. "If I ever find out this was some kind of scam, you'll both have hell to pay."

We both smiled uneasily at that, and by the time we were in the back of one of the SUV's back to the French Quarter, we were relieved to be out of there.

At long last, I texted Cass that we were headed back. This time, he didn't answer immediately, and I wondered what he and Jess might be up to. I returned Tulip's borrowed phone to her.

We couldn't exactly speak freely with Viktor's chauffeur potentially listening in, but I had just one lingering question on my mind that made it impossible not to start discussing the day's events, at least in part.

"Can you... would you at least tell me why you married him?" I asked Tulip.

I was almost surprised she answered after dodging questions all day, but she did owe me a little after that performance.

"Me and... my _ex_," she was careful not to name any names, "had just broken up, been through some rough shit. It changed him to the point I didn't recognize him anymore. Then I started taking jobs with Viktor. I was in a bad place, but he was good to me. He gave me all the stuff I ever wanted. Big house, fancy clothes. Two pools." She laughed. "I felt loved. But I was never in love with him. He was just what I needed to get better. Get back on my feet. But then I didn't need him anymore, and I didn't know what to do, so I left."

She probably could have avoided a lot of trouble just by being honest with him, but I don't think she needed to hear that.

The rest of the drive back was quicker than I thought it would be, and nothing made me happier than when my feet were back on terra firma next to Denis's place and the SUV had driven off.

"I think that whole thing went pretty good, don't you?" she asked.

"All things considered, yeah," I answered. "Though I think we're going to have to maintain a fake relationship until we're out of the city."

"Sounds fun," she wrapped an arm around me. "The boys will get a kick out of it."

That they would.

"_And _we didn't need a lick of their help," she added.

That was good. As much as I was missing Cassidy, I wondered if he'd even be able to keep Jesse out of this if he thought I might be in trouble. I believed he'd happily go against me at the slightest hint of danger.

And now that I knew Tulip's secret, I understood why his knowing was the last thing any of us needed. With Jesse, honesty was probably not the best policy.

"But what do we tell them?" I asked Tulip. "I can't be keeping secrets from Cass."

She looked at me sternly.

"Not a _word_," Tulip demanded.

"Even about us having to pretend we're together in public?"

She scowled.

"We'll figure that out when we get to it, okay?" she said.

"Alright," I said, "but I'm not thrilled about it."

"Look, when you're the one trying to keep your secret husband under wraps, you get to call the shots," she said.

I wasn't going to touch that one.

We headed inside, and before I was even fully through Denis's doorway, Cass immediately had his arms around me and pulled me tight to him.

"You need to stop scarin' me like that, love," he whispered in my ear.

I clutched him back as Tulip scooted past us and headed inside.

"Thanks for worrying," I said, his grip not letting up. "But we had the situation under control."

"Good," he said, now pulling away to look me straight in the eye. "You'll have to tell me all about it later, alright? For now, you have to come see this. We found God."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I wanted to thank you so much for investing your time into this story of mine! I hope you're enjoying it, and that you'll leave a comment if you did :)


	29. The Audition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang searches for clues in "God's" audition tape before Jesse demands some answers.

Cass had pulled a chair right up to the aging TV set so I could closely observe the grainy audition. As I sat there, I struggled to believe what I was seeing.

The video featured fake God from the church—there was no doubt about that with his angular features and the long white beard, brows and hair—but it was still tough to comprehend all of this. He was just some guy—a local actor who happened to have the perfect look for the job. He had to try out and everything.

As it began, Cass warned me the video was quite shocking, so I braced myself.

Something about seeing this man like this, whether it was the round glasses or the desperate nature of this kind of audition, seemed to diminish all of the power he appeared to possess before. When he spoke, his voice was deep but lacking confidence.

"Mark Harelik. Six-two. Gunth Management," the man introduced himself, holding a slate reading his name and the role—God. He nodded, and clacked it anxiously before taking a seat and pulling a script out of his back pocket.

"How did you get this?" I asked Cass as the video ran.

"Mr. Harelik there was in a Katrina relief commercial," Cass explained. "Starrin' Frankie Muniz, you gotta see it. Anyhow, we tracked down his agent, promised the man a role on _Game of Thrones_, and he gave us the disc."

"Good going, Cass," I congratulated him, and he smiled quite proudly at that. Tulip eyed the screen from the corner of the room, curious but not invested, as it played, before Jesse came in, viewing alongside us. He didn't even stop to ask Tulip where we'd been.

"When you're ready," said a steady woman's voice on the recording.

The man seemed anxious and unsure as he eyed his printed script, the marks of a yellow highlighter visible through the backs of the pages.

He had questions about it—who he was talking to, what his goals and intentions were. It seemed important to him to really understand the role. He wanted so badly to nail this.

“Could be the heavenly host or different angels calling up from Earth. Your goal is to reassure the faithful, et cetera,” the woman’s voice answered back.

Harelik removed his glasses and reassured himself, clearing his throat, leaning forward, buzzing air through his lips and shouting in order to warm up his voice.

“Okay,” he finally said, and suddenly, miraculously, he had regained some of the regality he’d had in the projection that fateful day in Annville. Out of nowhere, he was a damn convincing God.

“Who are you?” the woman asked.

“I am the alpha and the omega…” he answered, and now, his voice boomed with power. And then flailing again, “Could I start one more time, please? That... I didn’t…”

“Talented, right?” Cass asked me.

“Yeah,” I said. “He should believe in himself more.”

The woman allowed him to give it another go. He sniffed deeply, and this time when he spoke, it seemed he was reciting the exact words he’d proclaimed to us when Jesse had called up to Heaven.

Apparently, the auditioner had liked his performance as much as we had, and asked him to try the next scene. Harelik nodded and wiped his brow and he did the next section, just as convincing as before.

“The Lord your God has heard your lamentations, your wailing,” he said soulfully. “Rest well, my child. Your suffering is my suffering. I shall soothe your pain and dry your tears.”

And then he got choked up. I think he might have actually been crying.

“Your suffering is my suffering,” he repeated in his normal voice, barely keeping it together, wiping away at his tears. “That just kills me.”

“Dedicated, too,” Cass added, and I smiled at him.

"God" was then asked to do the last scene, apparently called “Scary Prophecy.”

Here, he held up two fingers threateningly.

“Hear me!” he began, voice thunderous. “Hear me and tremble and know the signs of the world to come! Look for the changes, for things impossible. The dying land, the falling sky, the beasts of the field thrown into confusion. Look for the days to shorten, look for the darkness to grow and look for the wicked to know my wrath!”

This was intense stuff, and the process seemed to have entirely drained Harelik. He was struggling for breath, disturbed by it yet unhappy with what he’d put out.

“I pushed that last part, don’t you think?” he asked the woman anxiously. “I mean, it's not as scary if He's trying to be scary. You know... You know what I'm saying?”

The auditioner didn’t seem to notice or care. Instead of answering his question, she asked him if he was okay with some of the specifics of the job, that this was open-ended and had no out-date, and he agreed.

“Obviously, it's a... it’s a big commitment,” he said with a laugh. “But, uh, it's the role of a lifetime.”

“In that case, congratulations,” she told him. “You've got the part.”

He clapped his hands in celebration, and shook his fist at the sky, ecstatic at this big win. It was a look of pure elation.

Then, out of the corner of the screen, a hand appeared brandishing a small gun. Harelik didn’t even stop cheering before he was shot squarely in the heart, leaping backward at impact.

“Jesus Christ,” I exclaimed. “That…shit!"

“Sending him to heaven,” Cass explained.

“Yeah. Just... fuck,” I said. It would take me a moment to come to terms with it. “You’d just think they could do it in a way that's... not that."

“So what do you think?” Jesse asked me, the anticipation in his voice clear. “Anything stand out to you as, you know, notable?”

“Uh,” I shook my head, “Besides the fact I just watched a man get murdered on camera? I might need to watch it again, see if anything stands out.”

Jesse pulled a seat up beside me and used the remote to rewind back to the beginning of the audition. As we started viewing it again, Tulip scowled and told us she was going to get some sleep. I gave her a little wave, but Jesse didn’t even reply, eyes fixed to Mark Harelik’s tape.

He asked me about it again once we'd watched Harelik get shot for the second time.

“I guess what stands out to me is the speeches,” I told him. “That first one, we all witnessed back in Annville. So they wanted to see him work with _the_ scripts. His proclamations to the people. Now, that second bit seems like something Heaven might wanna use to win folks over, convince them of God's goodness. And then the last one... well if those words are any indication, seems like we might have an apocalypse on our hands."

"Hmmm," Jess pondered all of that. "Anything else?"

I thought I'd done a pretty good job. What did Jesse even want?

"Like... What else would you be looking for?"

"You know, like maybe clues as to who hired him? Who set all of this up?"

"Yeah, I didn't get any of that," I said. "Maybe it'll be a little clearer if we have a better screen to watch it on? Do you have, maybe, a computer with a DVD drive?"

"Good thinkin," Cass encouraged me, and Jesse nodded, and we ejected the disk, gathered around the kitchen table and watched again on what must have been Denis's laptop. Here, the quality was much better than it was on the crusty CRT set.

We watched it again, and again, and again, but even managing to see the crisp details, we were no closer to any answers.

Eventually, it was time for a break. Jesse let us be, retreating to his room. Meanwhile, Cass looked like he had something to say.

"I tink Jess is appreciatin' that yer here wit us," he said with a smile. "Applyin' your big brain logic to the search, 'n that."

"Thanks, Cass," I said. That was flattering, I guess, but now I got why Tulip had left in such a huff. She was observant and detail-oriented, too. Definitely more than I ever was. She _had_ to be to pull off the incredible stings she had. Her feedback should have been just as valuable as mine.

"And you'll be proud o' me," he added, taking his phone out of the pocket of his small denim jacket. He wore it over a light button-down shirt with a huge collar.

He pressed one of his app icons, and we were greeted by the smiling face of a little green owl. It looked like he'd already progressed through a number of his French lessons.

"I'm _very_ proud of you," I said with a satisfied smile, leaning into his shoulder. "Feeling inspired?"

"Well, it was a nice distraction from imaginin' you 'n Tulip were bein' tortured somewhere by reptilian influencers," he said, and despite the smile on his face, I didn't know how much he was joking.

"I'm so sorry I worried you, Cass," I hugged him from the side. "I just couldn't let Tulip do that alone."

"You're a good friend," he said. "I know ya had to. And later, you'll have to tell me all about that."

I nodded, and sighed, not knowing what I'd tell him when the time came. Given the choice between keeping secrets from Cass and breaking my word to Tulip, I'd probably end up doing the latter. I didn't love that.

"Anyway, it was _Denis_, too," Cass continued. "He sounded kinda irritated this mornin' when Jesse showed, and he said this one word a bunch o' times—_égoïste_."

"Selfish..." I translated.

"Yeah, I looked it up," he said. "I don't want that to be the way he remembers me. I mean, I don't wanna remember our relationship like that. So we're gonna do sometin' about it. 

He waved his phone around a little, and proud only began to explain how I felt then.

"But I'm gonna need yer help, yeah?" he said. "Practice starts tonight."

"You've got it, I told him," and he kissed me hard, his metallic taste filling my consciousness. I realized how nice it was to feel like I was home.

When the kiss ended, Cass smirked back at me, but it looked like he still had more on his mind.

"What's bugging you?" I asked him, curious.

"That stuff ya said earlier," he started, "about the end o' the world. Do ya tink that's true?"

"I don't think they'd have him read all that if it wasn't a possibility," I told him. "Maybe not exactly like he described, but whoever these people are, they wanted to see his wrath face."

"Well, then we better make the most o' tings before Armageddon strikes," he said, disguising his worry with a faint laugh.

"Not if we find the real God first," I suggested. "Maybe put a stop to whatever this is."

"Now that sounds like a plan," he agreed.

* * *

We spent the rest of the afternoon there at the computer, scrubbing through the audition occasionally for clues, scanning Mark Harelik’s IMDb page—he’d been in an episode of _Seinfeld _and another of _Star Trek: Voyager_, if you could believe that—and then got a little distracted on YouTube as I tried to steer Cass clear of the unhelpful conspiracy theory videos it kept recommending.

He also told me that Jesse had claimed to have some kind of encounter with a super-secret religious organization bent on world domination, but he was a little fuzzy on the details. Apparently, the story had only worked to fuel Cass's worry.

Night had fallen when Tulip came back out to pour herself a bowl of Boo Berry, looking better-rested and fairly satisfied with the sugary junk Denis had on offer in the cupboards. Not long after that, Jesse also returned, standing very straight with his hands on his hips as he looked around the room, like he was expecting something.

“Well?” he finally said.

“Well, what?” Cass replied, looking up from the screen.

“It’s just we’ve been hangin’ out all day, and none of you are gonna fill me in on where you two were all night?”

It was weird that Jesse only brought it up now. Suddenly, this seemed very important to him.

“We were just having a girl’s night out,” I answered, as convincingly as I could.

“It didn’t sound like either of you were up for that last night," he responded. "I thought both if you weren't feelin' too good."

“Well, we started feelin’ better and changed our minds,” Tulip retorted. “You were gone a long time, we just wanted to get out.”

“And what about Cass?” Jesse asked.

“He was asleep,” I said.

“I was,” Cassidy chimed in.

Suddenly, Jesse didn’t buy it, and something about the situation had set off a big red flag for him. He looked pissed, and then I saw his expression transform into a strangely sinister little smile as he set his sights on me.

He stepped over, and then, quietly but powerfully, he demanded, "**_Where were you?_**”

“Big mansion,” I answered without thinking, without being able to control myself. “Belongs to a guy called Viktor Kruglov.”

There wasn't even time to wrap my head around the nature of it. I was _going_ to do what he asked. That was how this worked. So my only thought was to focus—_just_ answer the question, and don't reveal anything beyond that. Don't do anything stupid. Because the look on Jesse's face told me he wasn't done.

"**_What were you doing there?_**" was his next question.

"Getting divorce papers signed," I answered. Not a great response. But better than it could have been, all things considered.

I concentrated all my effort into keeping my mouth shut, into diverting. I didn't dare look at Tulip, but one glance at Cassidy revealed he was tensely hanging on to each revelation.

Jesse wore a confused expression, but he didn't appear angry. Just baffled.

"**_And how did you manage that?_**" he asked me.

"I kissed Tulip," I said. "Convinced him we were a happy couple.

He didn't look displeased at that. In fact, he smirked, eyes dashing back and forth between Tulip and me.

"Jesse, I tink that's enough o' that..." Cassidy started, but he had more questions for me.

"**_That all it took?_**"

"No." I exhaled. "There were some intimate physical details that persuaded him."

"_Jess_," Cassidy repeated trying to put a stop to this.

"**_What's that supposed to mean?_**"

"We had sex," I said, and I couldn't believe I'd uttered those words out loud Still, I was indescribably relieved that I hadn't also blurted out that Cass had been right there with us, too.

Jesse looked at Tulip, and then at me, and then alternated pointing slyly at both of us. I finally looked over at her, and she appeared mortified.

"It was before the two of you were back together," I added quickly, of my own volition, "so you can't be mad at her."

"Who says I'm mad?" he said. Indeed, he seemed okay. Amused, really. Tulip had guessed as much. It was also clear he thought I was the one getting the divorce, and I think that suited all of us just fine.

"If anything, I owe an apology to Cass," I added, head down, trying not to arouse suspicion. "We _were_ together at the time. And then there's the whole secret husband thing. I'm sorry, Cass."

I looked at him intently, and saw we were on the same page.

"Apology accepted," he said with a little nod, still figuring things out himself. "I love you, and I forgive ya." He paused. "And Jesse, don't you _ever_ do that to Ada again."

His tone was more serious than I'd ever heard him take with Jesse. I appreciated that.

"Sure, Cass." Jesse concealed a little laugh, like he thought Cassidy had landed himself in a humiliating situation—that I'd made a fool of him. If only Jesse knew the truth. He never could. I think Cass noticed it too, but we were both better off ignoring that.

"And then there's the little thing of Tulip and me," I continued, thinking it wise to drop this bomb now. "As long as we're here in New Orleans, we're gonna have to pretend we're together in public."

Tulip glared at me, but with everything else out in the open, there was no reason to hide that fact. We didn't need to be holding on to additional secrets. 

"I'm sure Tulip'll be glad to do whatever she can to keep you safe, Ada," Jesse said now, almost gleefully.

"You sound a little too happy about that," Tulip chided him.

"What?" Jesse grinned. "I'm not allowed to enjoy the idea of my two favorite ladies spendin' some quality time together?"

I seriously doubted I was one of Jesse's "two favorite ladies," but that give me an idea. Something for Cass, for sticking by me every step of the way.

"Hmm. you'd _really_ like to see us kiss, huh?" I teased him.

"What gives you that idea?" he asked, voice raising into a defensive tone.

"I dunno," I said. "Just about everything you've said and done since the topic came up."

"So what if I would?"

"Well, I was wondering if you'd be willing to make a trade," I suggested.

"What kind of trade?" That got his attention.

"Tulip and I can share a nice kiss for you..." I started. Jesse looked prepared for anything. "...If you and Cass show off for us, first."

Jesse scoffed at the idea, taken aback by the mere suggestion. Cassidy also pretended to be shocked, but I knew what his true feelings were on the matter.

"Deal's off," Jesse said, turning away from us.

"Mhmm, good call, Padre," Cass nodded, and I think only I could hear the slight disappointment on his voice.

"They're probably gonna have to in public, anyway," Jesse reasoned.

"Right again," Cass agreed, now watching Jesse begin to pace back and forth across the kitchen. Cassidy watched him in an attempt to figure out what exactly he was doing.

"And that'd make things real weird between us, right?" Jesse asked.

Cass sighed.

"I don't know, Jesse," he said, almost exasperated. "What d'ya want me to say?"

And then, curiosity got the best of Jesse, because he marched over, placed a hand on the back of Cassidy's head and pulled Cass in to kiss him, their lips hard against each other. Jesse's expression appeared strained, at first, but he soon relaxed, and Cass relished the experience as Jesse's tongue entered his mouth, tasting him.

The man was serious about putting on a show for us, and I had to tear my eyes away to look at Tulip, whose jaw was wide open as she watched them enjoy each other.

When their lips separated, Jesse immediately turned toward us, wiping his mouth with his sleeve, which seemed to slightly hurt Cassidy's feelings. Still, he looked like he'd had a nice time.

Not wanting to make Jesse beg, Tulip soon strolled over to me, tracing her fingers down the side of my face before she cupped my lips with hers, passionate and, again, grateful, and I happily returned the gesture.

The kiss ended, and the boys were watching us looking very satisfied, Jesse with his arms folded, Cass leaning against the counter casually. I also noticed Denis was peeking in from the other room, not quite smiling but not looking so miserable, either. We'd been a hit, apparently.

"So," I asked, "was that worth our little trade?"

"You know, I think it was," Jesse answered.

Cassidy said nothing, but nodded emphatically, and then gestured to me to meet him in the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for caring enough about this story to keep reading! I deeply appreciate your continued support and hope you enjoy every bit of it.
> 
> I know I always say this, but if you liked this chapter, I'd love to know why. I always am excited to read new comments, so please leave me one if you'd like to share :)


	30. Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quick French lesson with Cassidy quickly devolves into something a little more titillating for both Cass and Ada.

"Sounds like someone had a big day," Cass mused when we were finally in the privacy of our room, an edge of wonder on his voice. He could say that again.

"Where do I even start?" I asked, taking a seat on the bed.

"Maybe at the 'Tulip was married to some dude wit a mansion' part," Cass answered, crossing his arms.

I told him about Viktor, his work, and how Tulip had gotten involved with him. How this had been the one place in the world Tulip was avoiding, and in a cruel twist of fate, this was where we _had_ to be.

Even so, I was actually slightly relieved I'd been forced to spill the beans. At least that meant I didn't have to lie to Cass, and I told him so. He laughed.

"Y'know, the whole time Jesse kept sayin' he knew exactly where the two o' youse were, and he couldn't o' been further from the truth."

"What did he think we were?" I asked him.

"Sometin' about shoppin', shopliftin' 'n cheatin' at cards," he said. "He had no idea how bloody daft that sounded. He really doesn't know you at all, does he?"

"No," I answered. "No he doesn't."

He shook his head a little, dumbfounded again by the whole thing.

"Wait, so you two waltzed in there 'n just... demanded he sign the divorce papers because ya both love each other?"

"Not exactly," I admitted. "We kinda got kidnapped from the laundromat in the middle of the night..."

"_Adelaide_..."

"But!" I interrupted him, "_But_, we always had the situation under control. Viktor loved Tulip, and he was never going to hurt us. Well, not physically. He did make her cry a couple times."

"And why'd he do sometin' like that?"

"It wasn't on purpose, I'm sure," I said. "She felt guilty about everything, is all. And all of Viktor's henchmen just kind of pretended we didn't exist, even though they seemed surprisingly friendly. And then her stepdaughter spat in her face."

That caught Cass off guard, and he nearly snorted.

"Well, I can assure ya that _Denis_ will not spit in yer face," he smiled. "I'm at least like, 60% certain o' that."

"Good," I laughed. "And look, we're both back home safe and sound. It all worked out in the end. And honestly, I think having her dirty laundry aired was the much more traumatizing part of the day."

"Listen, I'm so sorry fer that, Adelaide," Cass apologized. "I woulda stopped Jesse earlier, I just didn't wanna gather too much suspicion around us all..."

"It's okay," I said. "I'm just glad I didn't say anything too incriminating. Tulip's in the clear, for the time being. And Jesse finally discovered the truth about our little rendezvous... At least two thirds of the truth, anyway. I hope that takes a little something off your chest."

"I tink it does," Cassidy answered. "But are you alright? I didn't like seein' 'im use his power on ya like that."

"I think so," I shrugged. "It was so strange. It all just kept spilling out, and I couldn't control it, but it felt... fine. It should have been kind of violating—that's how I'd always imagined it—but it was _easy_, if anything. That's one hell of a power."

"See, that's how I felt when he used it on me, too," he said. "But from the outside lookin' in, it's not so cool. He shouldn't be so casual-like about it. I promise I'm not gonna let him do that to ya again."

"Thank you, Cass," I told him. "Whatever happens, I know you'll keep me safe."

"Good," he said, finally sitting down beside me. "And I hope this whole situation's sorted, cos I swear to God, if I were mortal I woulda died there 'n then of a heart attack when I found ya gone in the mornin'."

"That won't happen again, Cass," I promised, feeling guilty about putting him through that. "The last thing I wanted was to scare you."

"I know," he said. "I know. And ya were lookin' out fer Tulip, which is _exactly_ what I asked ya to do."

"I'm just loyal like that," I joked. He smiled, and then leaned in for a strong, lingering kiss that gave me a lovely little quiver in my head.

He was gazing into my eyes when we separated, and then he chuckled to himself before he spoke.

"And I also wanted to tank you, by the way, fer yer clever maneuverin' of my moment wit the Padre," he said. "I honestly didn't tink he was gonna go fer it."

It had been weeks since he first admitted his attraction to Jesse to me, and though I found Jesse's inner workings to be a mystery, I'd had a feeling I could sway him with the right bait. Cass had seemed to appreciate that. And it was only fair, given the time I'd be spending with Tulip, on top of everything I'd put him through.

"Maybe he was curious," I suggested. "If I were in his shoes, I would have done the same. How was it?"

"I expected 'im to be more... shy, I s'pose?" Cass pondered with a little blush. "He was a bit aggressive. Took the lead. Lots o' tongue."

Jesse and Tulip had that in common, it seemed.

"Well I, for one, am glad you got to experience that," I smiled.

"It did help me to appreciate who I've got," Cass whispered, placing a hand on my leg. "No one compares. Y'know I wouldn't trade ya fer the world."

Things were taking a sexy turn, as Cassidy leaned in and his lips grazed my neck, but he had given his word, and I had to hold him to it. That wound up requiring much more self-control than I could have imagined.

"Hey, wait," I cooled him down. "Wait just a minute. We gotta practice your French."

Cass grumbled.

"Just a little!" I promised. "You told me you would. And then we can get back to the good stuff, okay?"

"Okay, but let's get it over with, quick, alright?"

"Right," I rushed. "So, uh, what did you learn with your app today?"

"Some basic sentence tings, some animals 'n greetings, some foods," he rattled off, counting on his fingers. "Nothing super useful just yet."

"Gimme some sentences and you'll get a reward," I told him as I rose to my feet and stood in front of him.

"Uh," he dug around in his brain. "_Je suis un homme."_

_"_Very good," I told him, throwing off my jacket and top to reveal the black bra I was wearing underneath.

The game was easy enough, and that got his attention. It helped that his accent and pronunciation were impeccable, even if all he was saying was that he was a man. His brows turned up and his smile grew.

"_Tu es une femme_," he said next, leaning even further into the accent.

Off came my jeans, and socks, leaving me in lacy black undies matching the bra. He knew it was going well.

"_Denis est mon fils."_

I unhooked my bra and pulled off the straps, tossing it to the accumulating pile of clothes on the floor. The chill of the night air was cold against my breasts, making my nipples hard.

Cass's eyes were wide, and it looked like he was struggling to find his next sentence, not because it was difficult but because he had so many options—and, of course, he was slightly distracted.

"Um, _le chat mange une pizza,_" he announced, and I slid out of my panties before sitting in Cass's lap, feeling his erection press against me as I threw my arms around his neck.

"The cat's eating pizza, huh?" I asked. Not the sexiest of statements, but who was I to judge?

"_Oui_," he answered, leaning back on the bed and pulling me with him, my naked body against his fully clothed self as he kissed me deeply, and I drank up his taste and scent. I rolled to his side as his fingertips ran gently along my ribs, making my skin tingle, before he placed his palms on my breasts, caressing them gently, evoking warm moans from my throat.

"Is there anytin' ya'd like tonight?" he asked softly into my ear, and indeed there was something that had been rattling around in my mind for a bit.

"Well," I started, and he gave me some room to speak, leaning back as his eyes took me in, "I've been thinking about our special time with Fiore at the Sky Tower, and how you were with him..."

"Yer curious about butt stuff," he clarified in a blunt whisper.

I paused briefly, not sure how to answer, before I nodded, feeling slightly timid about the request.

"Mhmm." He looked me up and down, observing me as he continued grazing my skin with his fingertips. "'N how much experience do ya have in that area?"

"Uh, zero," I told him.

"Ya never experimented wit yer fingers, or a plug?" he asked.

"Can't say I did."

"And ya want to head straight into anal?" his questioning tone made his feelings on the subject clear.

"I'm getting the feeling that isn't gonna happen?"

"Probly not tonight, love, but don't get too down about it just yet," he answered playfully. "Just a moment..."

He got up, opened a dresser drawer and dug around in his pillowcase knapsack before he pulled out a small, black tube-shaped squeeze bottle. He tossed it over to me. It was lube.

"If yer willin', I'd like ya to lube up yer pinky and we'll see what ya can take," he told me as he disrobed.

"I'd be happy to," I replied as I did as he said, applying a generous amount of the pillowy gel to my smallest digit. Once he was fully undressed, he joined me on the bed, leaning beside me as I raised my knees and reached a hand down between them, pressing the small tip of my pinky against my asshole.

He watched, touching his fingers in a gentle coaxing motion against my free arm as I pushed carefully into my hole, cautious of this new invasion of my body.

Despite the lubrication, I found my muscles incredibly tight, making me afraid to press in too far. It was slightly uncomfortable, the nerves sensitive to each tiny touch. I didn't make it much further than the first tiny knuckle before I felt that was enough, and even then I felt my body was trying to push it back out of me.

"Yer not there yet," he said, gently, again to temper my disappointment. "That's okay. It just takes a little trainin'. That, and ya need to relax."

"And how long is that gonna take?" I asked.

"Depends," he said. "But no rush. We have all the time in the world."

He gave me another sensuous kiss and then eyed me again, like he was considering something, and then heasked me a question.

"Ya wanna try me?" he asked.

"You mean...?"

"If yer not shy, I'd love to feel ya inside me," he encouraged.

"I'd like to try," I admitted, my heart suddenly pounding, as he smiled softly.

This time, he had me lubricate my middle finger. He rested on his back, knees tucked up against his chest, cock hard and proud in the air, and I got below him and cautiously approached the dark space beneath with my finger until its tip was right up against his hole.

"Mmm," he moaned gently. "That's nice. Now wherever yer ready, don't be scared. I trust ya. Just press into me."

I did, and he groaned with pleasure, and though his soft, silky muscles had a snug grip around my finger, I felt that they were also relaxed, and giving, and he could take so much more.

"God, Adelaide, that feels so good," he cooed. "I want ya to finger me. Is that okay?"

"I thought you'd never ask," I said, pulling my finger in and out of him, dragging its tip against his upper wall. That really seemed to drive him wild, and I loved watching his face contort with pleasure with every stroke.

"Oh, Ada," he moaned. "_Just _like that. Fuck."

As I continued, his cock twitched, jittering occasionally with excitement. I relished every moment of witnessing him enjoy this unique brand of pleasure.

"Mmm," I murmured as I watched him writhe. "Would you like another one of my fingers in your ass?"

"Yes," he nodded very swiftly at the suggestion. "Please."

I pulled my hand back for just a moment, this time bathing both my index and middle fingers with the lube before tossing the tube to the side of the bed, and then I plunged into him again. He exhaled joyfully and I continued pressing up against that deliriously sensitive spot inside of him.

He basically growled then at the sheer bliss of it, his eyes clutched closed as he basked in the sensation of the experience.

"Ooh, you taught me so well," I told him as I gently mirrored the motions he so successfully employed to make me cum from the inside.

"Yer _so_ good," he moaned.

"Anything else you'd like?" I asked him as his open mouth wonderfully contorted with each stroke.

"Put yer... ohhhh," he groaned. "Yer thumb, press it on me taint."

I did as he asked, and that seemed to intensify the strong pulses within him.

"Yeah," he moaned. "Yeah... _yeah_."

And then I couldn't resist any longer. That strong, hard cock that was now stretched along his flat stomach was calling my name, and with my free hand, I positioned it over toward me and took its tip into my mouth as I continued to work his ass. The moan that came from him then was the most handsome sound, a combination of all the purest pleasures.

"Oh _God_," he yelped_, _and I ran my lips over the end of his shaft, rolling my tongue under the skin and over its sensitive head as I stimulated him with my come-hither motion from the inside, pushing all his buttons at once.

"Jaysis," he finally said. "I'm cumming, fuck I'm cumming." And I only held my mouth over his cock then, pushing him the rest of the way there internally with my steady fingers.

He pulsed in my mouth and his muscles clenched against me and then he spurted his seed, bitter and hot against my tongue. I swallowed it down in a big gulp before lapping the rest of it up, causing him to breathe hard. My fingers were still inside of him when he finally let his legs back down around me and gave me the biggest, toothiest grin.

"You deserve a reward fer that little performance," he said.

"Well, I'm waiting," I told him.

* * *

I cleaned up my hands with some wet wipes Cass had on hand—he seemed prepared for any sexual eventuality—and he asked me to lay back on the bed.

When I did, Cass pounced, propped over me on his hands and knees, sensuous kisses beginning behind my ear, causing every inch of me to tingle delightfully, before he trailed his lips in delicate pecks down my neck, and across my clavicle, and down to my breasts.

He kissed each erect nipple before spending time on the left, massaging it with the point of his tongue before sucking it gently as he massaged my right breast with his palm. He was slow, and careful, and his passion made me let out a low, soft sigh of pleasure. Then he swapped sides and did it all over again, making me sink more blissfully into the bed with every second.

He finished there and continued his descent downward, kissing below my chest, and along my tummy, making a path right to my throbbing clit, which he kissed once, twice, three times, making me gasp a little each time, before he took me in his mouth and began to gently suck, my knees instinctively going up around his ears.

God, his mouth could do wonderful things, and I told him that and he continued, never ending that sweet and gentle, pulling pressure that could make me burst at any minute.

When he reached out his hand, running down my slit to find it so ready with my silky wetness, I was desperate for him. He slipped two fingers inside of me, coaxing me like I'd just coaxed him, and never letting up the actions of his lips and tongue. That had me cumming in moments, breathlessly cursing and worshipping Cass at once as the feeling rocked my entire being.

He withdrew his fingers and then looked up at me from between my legs.

"Now that yer nice and relaxed, I tink it's time we tried again," he whispered.

I looked to the side and spotted the lube before handing it to him.

He eyed me, as if asking for permission.

"I trust you," I told him, and he grinned and lubricated his own pinky finger thoroughly before he held it against my hole.

"Breathe slow and deep," he instructed me, and even though it was tricky in this aroused state, I followed his order. He ran his pinky in a tiny circle around the sensitive area and I realized how much I'd loosened up. I found that electrifying.

"Ya ready?" he asked.

"Please do it, Cass," I told him, and he penetrated me with his finger, and now it filled me with a tender, joyful sensation, and his entry was marked with no resistance. I loved how he felt.

"How's that?" he asked, keeping his pinky exactly in place.

"It's... Mmm, perfect," I gasped.

"And how would you feel if I did this...?," he asked before pressing his tongue to my swollen clit yet again.

This new tactile sensation in my ass brightened every lick, heightened every twitch of my pussy. There was so much untapped feeling there that it felt like a revelation to explore, even with his small finger stationary inside me.

It only took moments for me to climax again, calling out Cassidy's name in repetition as I bucked and tensed against him. His gentleness was precisely what I needed, and he was right about me not being ready for the big times. But this? All of this was just right.

He warned me that he was pulling out of me, then he did, and cleaned himself up before he told me he was grabbing something. I eagerly awaited his return, still panting on the bed.

This time, he headed to the closet, where he located an old black trash bag, rifling around in it before he pulled out a plastic package. Before I could make sense of what it was, he brought it over, sitting at the side of the bed to show me.

"Just realized I never got around to usin' these," he said as he showed me the container of sealed gunmetal grey silicone butt plugs—four of them, with soft tips and rounded centers in graduated sizes from teensy to imposing. Each ended in a flared base that doubled as a suction cup. "They're yers, if you want 'em."

"Mmm, yessir," I purred. "I want you to plug me up."

He grinned at that, and then found a pocket knife in another drawer to slice open the packaging before he removed the smallest of the plugs. It was even shorter than his pinky finger, but much thicker around the center, and though it looked tiny, the thought of having it inside me excited me so.

He squirted a generous dollop of lube over the tip before using his thumb and index finger to distribute it all over. His movements were delicately erotic in themselves, and I wanted so badly for him to slip it in me.

He grabbed the base and touched the very thin tip against my hole, making me quiver, before asking me to ready myself. I did, and he pushed it all the way in with a single finger, gliding in easily even as its touch against my sensitive walls made me quake with a novel sense of fullness.

"Is that comfortable fer ya?" he asked, checking in with me at every step of the way.

"Oh yes," I reassured him.

"Mmm, good," he replied in a hushed, sultry tone. "Now what to do wit all this extra lube?"

His fingers were still coated with the stuff, and I told him exactly what to do with it.

"Give it to me, Cass," I moaned, and he gave me an understanding nod, pushing his index finger deep into my wet, wanting pussy and twisting it around in the motion of a figure-eight, twirling in infinity. My muscles twitched joyously, and on the downward movements, I could feel a gentle press against the small plug, doubling the pleasure I felt there.

He was getting hard again, and as I admired the lovely cock attached to an even lovelier human, I couldn't wait for him to fill me.

"Stroke yourself for me," I asked, and he smiled again, taking back his lubed fingers before carefully tugging the foreskin over his tip, and then gliding his clutched hand down and up the length of his shaft as he eyed me, watching me continue to wriggle under the influence of the tiny plug. With each cycle, his member grew stiffer, and thicker, until it was standing again in its full glory.

"I get so fuckin' hard tinkin' about you Adelaide," he groaned.

"Let me feel how hard you are, Proinsias," I begged, and he leaned back down over me and guided his cock inside of me, and I didn't know how wonderful it would be to have both my holes filled.

Cass withdrew once and then plunged deep into me again, forcing a low involuntary squeak of a moan to pass through my lips, and yet again the bedsprings threatened to creak loudly enough to disturb our housemates.

"Ya mind if we do a bit o' slow 'n steady?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Even immobile, I cherished his sensation and the pressure building within me.

"Mhmm, that sounds nice," I told him, and he bent his neck down to taste my lips, sharing his sweet taste with me as he just barely swiveled his hips. Even so, each minute pulse made me feel so full it was tough not to cry out.

He buried his head against my neck, finding my hands stretched out along the top of the bed and taking them in his as I coveted every electric place our skin made contact.

I loved being close to him, feeling his perspiration against my skin, my pulse in tune with his, our breaths syncing with another carefully calculated thrust that makes my pleasure centers short-circuit. He was like a dream, and somehow he was mine.

He raised his head now to watch me, slightly delirious in the moment. His hazel eyes, a golden-flecked green in the amber light of the room, were things of beauty. I caught myself staring into them, and he stared deep into mine as he gave me another deep, pleasurable stroke.

In that unbroken eye contact, I lost track of myself, feeling like a pure being of delicious sensation, of outward love. I loved him with all I was as our nearly tantric lovemaking continued.

"I'm so in love wit you," Cass whispered, and then I didn't mind being whisked back in reality.

"And I'm so very in love with you," I murmured, and the goofy grin he wore then made me love him even more.

And then this time, he didn't hold back. He thrust into me with all his power and I had to stifle a blissful cry.

"Ohhh Cass, yes," I muttered under my breath.

"Oh, Ada," he called my name in a low growl as he pounded into me again, and again, hard and fast and probably too loud, but now we were beyond caring. I didn't dare stop him. It felt as if he was fucking me twice over and I wanted to experience every bit of this, knowing just how close he was.

"Please cum inside me," I begged, and it only took a few more mighty thrusts for him to arrive, leaving him breathing hard above me before he kissed me yet again, the perfect cap to a perfect experience.

We rested there like that for who knows how long before either of us dared move or break the silence.

We put on pajamas and took turns running to the bathroom, Cass going first, trying not to draw too much attention to ourselves, though the others seemed to be contentedly squared away in their rooms.

I asked Cass if I could keep the plug in for the night—I wouldn't mind continuing this sexy boost for perpetuity—but he warned me that my body would absorb the water-based lube overnight and leave me sore and hurting in just a couple of hours. There were all different types of lubricant, he explained to me, each with their pros and cons, and he promised to teach me more about then as we continued our training.

In the meantime, after I peed, I somewhat disappointedly pulled the little plug out of my asshole once it was my turn in the bathroom, washed it off carefully with some soap and the steaming hot water from the tap, and walked back to the room with it tucked carefully in my hand, in case I ran into anyone in the hall (which I didn't).

Back in the room, I put it back away safely and then hopped back into bed with Cass, nestling myself up into his outstretched arm.

"Thank you for making that first time something special for me," I told him, and he chuckled slightly.

"I only want the best for my beautiful bride," he replied, glowing.

"It's just, I think a lot of guys would just go for it, not care if it hurt a bit," I said. "I'm really lucky to have you."

"Tink nothin' of it," he said, and then went quiet for a second, like he was ruminating on things long past.

He saw that I noticed, and continued. "My first time, well, I tought I could handle it, but it wasn't comfortable, I'll tell ya that," he said, making a pained face. "Cookin' oil is a piss-poor substitute fer real lube, but that was what we had back then. It hurt, y'know, but I really liked the bloke 'n was anxious about tellin' 'im, riskin' messin' tings up, so I didn't. So I wanted to talk everytin' trough, give ya every chance to voice concerns. I wasn't gonna let that happen to ya."

"I love you for that, Cass," I told him. "Everything felt just right."

"I'm very glad," he said. "And I love ya, too."

The last thing I remembered before drifting blissfully to sleep was his sharp grin, and even in my dreams, our serene experimentation replayed, and continued, and expanded into infinity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if you came here for more plot this week, because this chapter was almost pure smut. I can't promise it will dive _right_ back into story next time, either, but it will come in due time!
> 
> As always, I deeply appreciate you for reading this far, and would love it if you'd leave a comment to let me know how you're finding the story.


	31. The Magic Bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ada and Cass's quiet, lovely morning together is rudely interrupted.

The bathroom in Denis' apartment was a strangely comforting little place. It had no windows, with tungsten lights that gave it an even stronger golden hue than the surrounding rooms, and no vents, so the room filled with thick, warm steam as I took my morning shower. I'd woken up before anyone else, and figured I might as well get a head start on the day before we all started fighting over the room.

Denis stocked the bathroom with the typical old man soaps and shampoo, probably grabbing the cheapest options available to him last time he needed to restock. I'd packed a little travel pouch with my own toiletries, and was happy to be able to do a deep condition and have a fresh shave for the first time in a few days, but didn't want to clutter the sparse shower ledges. We'd already done so around the sink, crowding it with four extra toothbrushes standing tall in two glasses.

While I usually liked to take too-hot, too-long showers, I was cognizant of the fact I was sharing the place with four other people and did my best not to hog all the water.

I felt oddly settled in here after just a couple nights, creaky tiles, old wallpaper and all—one big, weird happy family with my husband, his son, and our two best friends. Last night had seemed to dispel some of the tension in the group, and though I got the sense it wouldn't last forever, we were in a good place. Life was good.

After drying off, I tiptoed back to our bedroom in my towel. When the door was closed firmly behind me, I wrapped my hair up in the towel before snuggling back into bed with Cass. The movement caused him to stir, and he was smiling gently when his eyes fluttered open.

"_Bonjour ma chérie_," he murmured with a little stretch, craning his neck to give me a peck on the cheek. "I was just dreamin' about ya."

"Good morning," I grinned, thrilled with his French, with his dream, and that his being awake meant I didn't have to wait any longer to begin my day with him. "What kind of dream was it?"

He wore the most mischievous smile then, and I had a pretty good idea.

"Maybe this kinda dream," he said, pulling back the bedsheet to reveal that, under the boxer briefs he'd worn to bed, he was sporting an impressive morning erection. The blanket also came back enough to show him that I wasn't wearing a thing under the covers, causing his smile to widen.

"Y'know," I teased him, inching closer, touching my fingers to the hairs on his chest, "some dreams don't have to stay dreams."

"Mhmm, well, this one took place on the back of a _very_ majestic unicorn, so unless ya've got one o' those handy...?" he grinned, leaning in for a sumptuous kiss.

"Well, I don't have one of those," I told him when our lips parted, "But I do have this..."

I took his right hand and guided it under the covers, touching it to the opening of my pussy, which was already slick and wet at the thought of him.

"My God," he whispered.

"I'm ready when you are," I coaxed.

He got undressed in a hurry, needing only to slide out of his underwear and remove a T-shirt, and then he tossed two pillows on the ground.

"Ah, but first..." he said, reaching for my tiny new butt plug. "Tink yer ready for another round wit this little guy?"

"Oh, yes," I insisted.

He lubed it up again for me, and this time it took no effort at all for it to slip up into my ass. Progress, already, and I saw that Cass noticed it, too.

"Now, would ya like me to spend some time tastin' that gorgeous little clit o' yers?" he asked me.

As nice as that sounded, I couldn't wait.

"I'd rather have your cock," I whispered to him, and he must have understood because he nodded, and then rearranged the pillows on the floor into an inverted T shape before lying back on them, presenting me with the most wonderful place to sit. There on the ground, we could go as fast and hard as we needed without making a racket and waking everyone.

I took his cock gently in my hand as I lowered myself to perfectly position it into my desperate pussy, delighting in the pleasured face he made when I had all of him inside me. His beautiful fit was pure bliss, and the way his cock grazed the plug through my inner walls made both seem even bigger.

My knees rested comfortably on the pillow splayed horizontally at his ass as I rested my hands on his chest for balance, gliding on and off of him at such a delicious angle. I loved letting him lay back and enjoy himself as I did all the work. I could see every twitch of emotion and sensation in that absurdly handsome face of his, now sporting a few days of stubble.

Soon, I found myself repositioning my hands around his shoulders, allowing me to lean down on him lower and ride him even faster, and press my lips to his as he moaned and exhaled.

Then I felt his hands around my ass, and for a few lovely strokes he guided my whole body, coming down on his cock and then off it again in a more intense movement than I could generate by myself.

"Jesus, Cass," I groaned under my breath. "_Fuck_ that's nice."

Then, with one hand, he pressed a finger to the center of the plug in my ass, and pressed it gently, and then he jiggled it around a bit, and God, everything about that felt so good.

"Oh _God_." I couldn't keep it in. "Keep doing that, _please_ keep doing that."

He put on another smile that transformed into an open open-mouthed groan as he continued wiggling the plug with one hand and pulling me back and forth with the other. I couldn't stop muttering his name, alternating with delighted cries of joy, until he took me back with both hands, positively slamming us together, making a smacking sound every time my wet cunt hit his body.

"I'm gonna cum," he warned with his mouth hanging open. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum," and I was riding him harder than I ever have when he did, letting out a low, soulful moan and breathing hard. His face held the contortion of orgasm for a few long seconds as he panted.

When he was fully finished, he pulled me in close with both arms, and I fell and rose with every strong breath within his chest.

"Ya were right," Cass finally said as I rested on top of him, eyes closed contentedly.

"About what?" I asked.

"We didn't need a unicorn," he smiled, and then kissed me on the head.

* * *

We got dressed not long after that, and while I got into a pair of dark jeans and an olive tee with a pocket over the heart, Cass seemed to be going for a layered theme today.

First came a light grey long-sleeved shirt, then a black T-shirt over that, topped with a short-sleeved button-up with vertical orange and pinkish stripes. He left the final shirt unbuttoned, and slightly rolled up the sleeves to make them even shorter.

When I couldn't make out the indiscernible, swirly white text against his dark tee, I leaned in for a better look. He always had the most fascinating clothes, even if they all had come from a crappy church donation box. He just made them _work_.

“What does your shirt say?” I asked him, curious.

He looked downward, making no real effort to find out. “I dunno,” he said. “It’s cursive, ain’t it. Who can be bothered to check?”

I honestly wasn't surprised he didn't know. With a little laugh, I stepped in front of him to move his outer shirt aside and view the whole thing.

"My spirit animal is a tumbleweed," I read aloud, with slight derision. "How do you feel about that one?"

"Well, now I wish ya hasn't said," he sighed. "That's just cultural appropriation, now. And it's not even clever or notin'. Should I change?"

"Now I feel bad," I said, and I did. "Anyhow, you look _very_ handsome, and no one will be able to read it anyway. I think you're good. It'll be our little secret."

"That's good, 'cause I didn't feel pickin' out another outfit," he joked.

We were still the only ones up after our little escapade, so we took turns cleaning ourselves up in the bathroom, and seeing as there wasn't much to do in our room besides what we'd just got done doing, we figured we might as well borrow the TV in the living room.

Denis's small, ancient television set wasn't ideal for any kind of viewing, but we couldn't exactly be choosy. Cass had to get up from our space on the couch to manually flip it on and get the volume loud enough to hear, but not so loud as to disturb the others. When he did, the set tuned into a black and white film. He leaned in intently, appearing to recognize it immediately.

"Ah, _A Streetcar Named Desire_," Cass smiled at me, speaking quietly. "Bloody classic. Have ya seen it?"

I admitted I hadn't. All I knew about the film was the musical version from _The Simpsons_, which I had to assume was anything but accurate.

"It's about New Orleans though, right?" I asked. I guessed the musical hadn't made that part up.

"Exactly right, love," he said as he returned to the couch, and then quieted as the film continued.

He watched, rapt, as an actor came on screen. My goodness, he was handsome in an unattainable, old timey way. The man instantly captivated me, and Cass seemed taken in as well.

"Who _is_ that?" I asked him, sounding almost too eager.

"Yer jokin'."

"I'm not!" I insisted.

"_That_ man is the legendarily talented 'n handsome Marlon Brando," he stated. "Honestly, I am shocked 'n appalled ya didn't know that."

"Wait, wait, wait," I said, completely befuddled. "I am _very_ familiar with Brando. _The Godfather_. _Superman_. _Apocalypse Now_. Those are all iconic films. How did no one bother to tell me he was hot once?"

"You've truly been deprived," he mused. "I'll need to educate ya"

"Cass, I am _all_ ears," I told him, and he promised to fill me in on 119 years of historical hotties.

Since we'd missed the very beginning, and talked over the introduction of Stanley and Stella, Cass quickly got me up to speed. From that point onward, we mostly managed to stay quiet and watch the film, Cassidy's right arm draped cozily around my shoulder, my left hand resting contently on his leg. Besides the occasional slightly objectifying comment about Brando's arms, we kept our commentary to the too-frequent commercial breaks.

During that time, Jesse and Tulip finally left their room, seeming happier and better rested than usual. We said our good mornings as Jesse headed to the shower and Tulip purposefully made her way into the kitchen.

The end of the film was quite dark, but perhaps I should have expected that, based on the little I knew of Tennessee Williams' work. But this had pulled me in much more strongly than reading _The Glass Menagerie_ in high school ever did, that was for sure. And this would just be the beginning of my education.

It had just ended when Denis also emerged, a dry, deep cough rattling his lungs. His breath seemed slightly strained as he found his shoes and tried to ignore us. He retreated to his room and groaned as he sat down at the foot of his bed to lace them.

"_Bonjour, Denis_," Cassidy welcomed his son in a bright tone as he rose and approached the room. "_Ça va?_" He asked how he was doing.

"_Ça va,_" he grunted back tersely. He was fine, or so he said.

"_As-tu besoin d'aide?_" Cass offered his help, and I could see how badly he was tempted to swoop in and tie Denis's shoes for him—something he'd probably failed to do for him when he’d actually needed it, and that would now come off as horribly patronizing.

Denis waved him off slightly with his hand before he was racked with another horrible cough. It seemed he didn't want the help, that he didn't care for the intrusion. I didn't blame him entirely, as much as I wished his stubbornness would soften.

But perhaps the help was needed, and after a moment, he sighed, and then gave in.

"_Chapeau, s'il te plaît_," Denis asked him, and Cass pointed at the top of his head to clarify that he'd asked for his hat.

Denis nodded, coughing another time into his first. Cass glanced around before spotting the cap on the bureau, and then carefully handed the hat to him with both hands.

"_Merci_," Denis thanked Cassidy quietly as he accepted his hat and placed it atop his head, and I could sense that Cass was overjoyed to get even that small amount of recognition. The corners of his eyes crinkled and his closed mouth rose into a soft smile.

Denis struggled a bit as he got up, and though Cass offered his hand to help him stand, he refused it. He did nod slightly at his father as he made his way out of his bedroom and toward the front door.

"_Où vas-tu_?" Cass asked where he was headed as he stomped out.

He was practically out the door when I think he muttered the word "_pharmacie_" and had shut the door behind him.

I rose as Cass came back out to the living room, hands in his pockets, looking slightly pleased with himself.

"You did good, Cass," I told him, and that made him look prouder.

"It's... Bein' able to kinda talk to 'im was sometin' else," he said. "I tink I'm gettin' t'rough to him, too."

"And that's after how much time on an app?"

"Maybe four, five hours?" he answered.

That took me aback.

"You really spent that much time on there yesterday?"

"Well I was tryin' to keep busy, 'n that was before the Mark Harelik ad got everytin' kicked off," he shrugged.

"Well you're doing a fantastic job," I said, wrapping my arms around his waist. He gave me a little squeeze back. "It took me months of ninth grade French to get to your level."

"Aw, now yer just blowin' smoke up me arse," he laughed.

"I'm honestly not," I swore, and then he seemed slightly distracted as he sniffed the air.

"Smells like breakfast," he said, but I couldn't smell anything yet. When we made our way into the kitchen, we found Tulip toiling over the stove, whipping up stacks and stacks of pancakes with every imaginable fixin' spread out at the kitchen table. Cass had been very right.

"Your friend Denny left in a hurry" she said when she noticed us. Her pronunciation was off, but it was close enough.

"He's got somewhere to be," Cass answered simply. "And what are we havin' here, then? Reddi-wip. Marshmallows. Hot fudge. My God."

She smiled wide, and then grabbed two plates before spinning around to show them to us.

"These are for you," she grinned, showing us two plates topped with a pancake each, with "ADA" written across the top of one in colorful M&M's, and "CASSA-DEE" spelled on the other across two lines. 

"Well, I'm bloody honored," Cass accepted the pancakes.

"These look amazing," I told her. "Thanks so much for making breakfast."

She smiled as we took our plates to the table set for four, but we didn't dig in just yet. It would be polite to wait for Tulip and share the delicious meal she'd just made for us. 

It wasn't long after that when Jesse came back out of the bedroom following his shower, already donning his preacher ensemble.

"You're cookin'," he said to Tulip as he stepped out into the kitchen. His tone was warmer than usual. He actually sounded kind, for once.

"Yeah?" she answered. "So?"

"So, nothin'," he answered. "I love you cookin'."

The sly smile that followed made it seem for a second he was about to make some kind of disparaging joke, but decided it wasn't the time or place.

He wouldn't have been completely out of line to comment on her cooking, either. When Tulip was staying with me, she'd set off my fire alarm on at least two occasions I was aware of, and when she was feeling experimental, her "innovative" recipes could be downright deadly.

"And they're M&M pancakes," Jesse added. "Just like that time..."

"Don't you get _too_ sentimental on me, Jesse," she interrupted in a tone that was pretending to be stern. "Now you get to set the table."

He followed Tulip's orders with a little grin on his face, bringing the rest of the plates—including his own labeled pancake—over to where Cass and I were sitting. When his eyes rested on Cassidy, he seemed a little bashful, like a blushing schoolboy. For the first time, I thought I saw a glimmer of what everyone else saw in Jesse.

"Mornin' Cass," he smiled, and then almost as an afterthought added, "Ada," with a nod.

"Good mornin' Jesse," Cass answered back with a smile of his own, sensing what I had. "Yer chipper today. Had a nice night?"

"You could say that," he answered earnestly. "And you?"

"It was lovely," Cassidy answered, and I nodded alongside him.

Tulip had been watching the situation unfold for a few seconds before walking over, stack of pancakes in tow, and the confounded look on her face was priceless.

"So," she said, clearing her throat, "what're we doin' today?"

It was a good question.

"I could definitely use a tour of the city," I answered.

I thought Cass could be quite the guide, with his decades of knowledge of the place. I was technically going on my third day in New Orleans, and besides that bizarre first night in town, I hadn't gotten to experience much of it at all.

"I've heard there's this place in the Quarter where they shoot ya in the chest fer money," Cass chimed in, pouring syrup onto his pancake. I honestly wasn't surprised he knew of such a spot. "I think that might be fun."

"What?" Tulip asked, bewildered.

"Yeah," he said. "You wear a vest and that. It's a game."

Tulip clearly didn't believe him.

"Where they pay you to get shot in the chest?" she repeated.

"Yeah," he said again. "Or you pay them. That part was unclear."

Jesse's happy demeanor was getting less so second by second.

"Well, we could get shot in the chest for unclear reasons, or we could do what we came to do in the first place and look for God," he said matter-of-factly, ready to put everyone in their place.

I'd almost forgotten about that God business for a minute. It had been a pretty hectic few days, after all.

Tulip sighed, but knew he was probably right. Cassidy grabbed a shaker of sprinkles and started liberally pouring them over his pancakes.

"All right, searching for God it is, then," he answered, and then grabbed a little bit of everything else on the table as he decorated his breakfast.

Meanwhile, Tulip piled her plate high with whipped cream, the tube hissing as she created a generous swirl. All I wanted on mine were a few chocolate chips and a _tiny_ bit of the Reddi-wip, so I wouldn't obscure the name painstakingly embedded in the tops of the pancakes.

As Jesse reminded us there were still a number of jazz clubs he hadn't yet ticked off his list, Tulip offered Cass more marshmallows and I dug into the fluffy, chocolatey pancakes. I was grateful she'd stuck to the box and not gotten too creative with the recipe, sweet toppings aside. They were exactly what I needed.

"Or the crypto-fascists Lara told me about," Jesse suggested, bringing up a point I'd started to think Cass had made up.

"The men in the white suits?" Cass asked, waving his kitchen knife, mouth slightly full. "I'm tellin' ya now, when it comes to crypto-fascists, the Reptilians, they're gonna be way more likely."

Now _there_ was an ugly conspiracy theory I might have to subtly deprogram.

"Who's Lara?" Tulip asked, a slight edge on her voice. Jesse tensed up a little before he answered.

"This lounge singer I met," he said, taking a sip of coffee as Tulip shoved a forkful of marshmallows in her mouth, eyes watching him carefully. Cass must have known more, but knew better than to get involved as he washed down another mouthful of pancakes with a gulp of coffee.

He picked his next words carefully. "She was in trouble, I helped, she gave me a lead," he said.

"And that lead was...?" Tulip asked.

"I told you," he said. "The crypto-fascists."

"Mhmm," she pondered it, still sounding slightly suspicious.

He gave her a look, then, hard and focused. The intensity was uncharacteristic.

"You know I only have eyes for you, Tulip," he finally said, taking Tulip's hand and staring her straight in the eye. He was dead serious, and for a second, it seemed she didn't know how to respond.

"Yeah, I know," she told him after a brief pause. "But it's good to hear it out loud sometimes."

They lingered like that for a moment, but it wasn't like Jesse to stay off of the mission for long.

"Now, the God audition seems like a dead end," Jesse broke the silence. "All we have is some familiar lines and a hand shooting a gun."

Cass made a comment about wishing we could know who had shot the gun, and then suddenly got very excited, like he'd been struck with divine inspiration.

"Why don't we just zoom in on the serial number?" Cass blurted. "Trace the gun back to the owner?"

"Are you sure that's... well, real life?" I asked Cass, not wanting to doubt him, but also pretty sure that kind of stuff was make-believe.

"O' course," he said. "Just like they do in the shows and that."

"And what shows are those, exactly?" I asked him.

"Good ones," he answered. "_The X-File_s. _CSI_. _Scooby-Doo: Mystery Incorporated."_

Then there was a bit of a commotion outside. Doors slammed, and someone screamed. But it was a noisy, bustling city, and it hadn't been the first disturbance since we'd been here. That was easy to ignore.

But the _pew_ _pew_ _pew _sound, followed by a jangle in the fridge, demanded my attention. I rose to inspect it, and it was clear Jesse had noticed it, too.

"You know. 'Zoom in.' 'Resolve.' 'Hold on. Is that a clue there?' Like they do in the shows," Cassidy explained as Jesse and I inched closer to the aging refrigerator. Tulip also voiced her skepticism.

"When you say 'the shows,' you mean TV shows that take place say, in outer space or the Pentagon?" she clarified.

"Yeah, but we don't do any of that," he explained. "We take the tapes down to the Circuit Works and we let the Dork Docs do all the bloody faffin' about with their technicalogical software 'n that.

Finally, I summoned the courage to grab the fridge handle and pull it open. We were met with a burst of cool air and the scent of spoiled milk.

It was mostly filled with seemingly inedible jarred foods, with a notable exception being a Fage Greek yogurt on the second shelf. Bizarrely, it seemed to be gurgling from the inside.

As Jesse took the cup of yogurt, I became transfixed by it, barely taking in Cassidy and Tulip's conversation about his favorite types of TV, and why Tulip thought they were trash. When Jesse placed his hand at the lip of the aluminum foil lid and pulled it backward, he flinched.

"It's damn hot," he murmured quietly to me. Neither of us understood as we looked into the cup, the yogurt bubbling and churning, giving rise to a strange, tart stench.

"I do not just basically watch trash TV at all," Cassidy defended himself as Jesse fetched a spoon from an empty jam jar in the fridge door. "It's really an in-depth survey on the human experience, all right?"

Cass continued as Jesse plunged the spoon down into the yogurt, pulling up a long, thick bullet.

"Hey," Jesse piped up. "Guys."

The others only had to glance at it to know what was up. The Saint of Killers wouldn't be far. I didn't understand how or why he'd come, but there was no time to think.

Hearts pounding, we abandoned our breakfasts, and I helped spray down Cass with a 100 SPF aerosol sunscreen, making sure his hands and face were well-protected, as he slipped on a trench coat and hat and picked up an umbrella. Once he had what he needed, with fear in our hearts, we followed Tulip and Jesse out the living room window, clambering down to safety, and never sure how close the Saint was on our trail.


	32. Love's Enduring Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang heads to the library to learn more about the Saint of Killers, and Ada finds knowledge from an unexpected source.

We ran, and ran, until our throats burned, desperate for breath, and our feet throbbed. At least it didn't look like we'd been followed, and we stopped to catch our breath in an alley beside a graffitied dumpster. I stood close to Cass, sharing the shade of his umbrella.

"Wasn't the angel supposed to solve all this?" Jesse finally asked Cass and me after a moment of rest, his tone slightly accusatory.

"He gave his word," I said, breathlessly, baffled that this could have happened. "Fiore wouldn't have said so if he didn't mean it."

"Well, something must have happened," Jesse retorted.

"I'll figure it out," I promised. "Cass, do you have your phone?"

He dug it out of his pocket before handing it to me, and I immediately searched his brief list of contacts to find Fiore's number. I pushed the dial button and held the phone to my ear as I waited.

"You have his phone number?" Jesse asked Cassidy, his face squinting in confusion.

"Ada got it from 'im, to keep in touch," Cass explained. "He's a good mate."

I waited and waited for Fiore to answer, but after some time it went to a default voicemail recording. I tried again. Same bad luck.

"He's not picking up," I shook my head.

"Here, lemme try," Jesse offered, doing a quick search on his phone before making a call of his own. He only waited moments before he connected.

"I'd like to speak to Ganesh," he said, and then he went silent. He remained rather emotionless as he listened for a long while as a voice rattled away frantically on the other end.

When it finally stopped, he said. "Alright. Thanks," and hung up before announcing, "Fiore's dead."

The news was like a shot to the heart, and my feelings tightened into a rock in my stomach. I knew I'd only spent a few hours with Fiore, but I considered him one of my closest and most trusted friends.

It had only been two days since our time at the Mumbai Sky Tower. Was it _really_ possible he was gone for good? Cass wrapped a comforting arm around me, and I clutched him back.

"Wait," Tulip interjected. "I thought he was like... he couldn't die."

"I guess not," Jesse shook his head. "Apparently, a cowboy shot him and he never came back."

"He told us the Saint killed 'is partner, too," Cass explained.

"The legends say he can kill anything that lives," I added.

"What legends are those?" Jesse asked.

"Just the ones I grew up hearing," I answered. "Folktales."

When I was little, the woman I believed was my mother had weaponized that fear. The Saint of Killers would come get me if I didn't eat everything on my plate, or I didn't clean my room, or if I stayed up after lights out at bedtime, she'd told me. And on his way to me, he'd slaughter any innocent person on his path.

Right now, maybe that was a detail best kept to myself.

Cassidy breathed deeply, still trying to figure it all out. To understand.

"Did they say when this happened?" he asked.

"It wasn't long after we left," Jesse answered.

And then Cass shot me a piercing glance, staring me straight in the eyes as he spoke.

"You knew," he murmured. "Ya felt it. When we were still on the road."

I remembered. That deep, sinking panic had overtaken me and I hadn't a clue what it had meant.

Now that I did, I could feel only numb about it. Cassidy squeezed me tighter, and I held onto him for dear life.

"I did," I said. "I don't know how, but I did."

As I wondered further, Tulip piped up.

"So what do we do now?" she asked.

“What? About the indestructible angel-killer?" Cass replied. "I tink it's pretty clear that we run."

Jesse had other ideas.

"We can't run forever," he said. "He'll just keep findin' us."

"Unless you stop usin'... the power," Cass suggested. "That's how he keeps trackin' us, right?"

That _was_ right. The Saint had been led to us because Jesse had been playing with Genesis—using it on me. This was starting to feel like some kind of sick divine retribution.

"No." Jesse was fast to shut that idea down. "I need that to help me find God."

That didn't leave us with many options.

Jesse began to speculate. If his power worked on people, and vampires, and actual angels from heaven, what was it about the Saint of Killers that made him different? Why couldn't he be influenced?

Did wickedness make a being immune? Something about that didn't seem right to any of us. Imagine a power stronger than God's failing with evildoers.

"The Saint made a deal with the angels," Jesse reasoned. "Somethin' he could get, somethin' he wanted in exchange for destroyin' Genesis. That's his weakness."

"Yeah, right," Cass agreed. "Like, Superman has Kryptonite. Spider-Man has his Mary Jane. We've just gotta find out what the Saint's weakness is."

So that was settled. It was time to do some sleuthing. And when Jesse suggested we start by reading, Tulip just about looked at him like he'd sprouted two heads and started doing a jig.

* * *

We made our way to the New Orleans Public Library, and as we did, I stuck close to Tulip, taking her hand. I realized we might never know when someone who knew Viktor might be watching.

I was happy that Cass understood as Tulip comfortably clutched my hand back and leaned her head on my shoulder.

And when we actually got there, I became aware of just how foreign the inside of a library was to both Tulip and Cassidy. They weren't exactly readers.

Still, as much as I wondered how much they'd be able to contribute, I always did have faith in their resourcefulness. But me? This kind of shit was exactly my jam.

We all went our separate ways when it came to grabbing materials. Tulip was back first, toting a massive and ancient Walkman and a case for a book on tape housing a volume of _American Psychopaths_.

Cassidy brought back a View-Master and a stack of circular reels, some comics and illustrated children's books, a Saint-themed _Mad Libs_ and a flipbook detailing his crimes. This was one thorough library. I was surprised anyone cared outside of Texas.

As I grabbed heavy tomes off the shelf, Cass relieved me of the weight, graciously taking my books for me. To the pile he added a dogeared paperback romance novel titled _Love’s Enduring Salvation. _Its cover was graced with a shirtless, well-muscled beefcake, but the face was a perfect likeness of the Saint of Killers.

"Might as well make this fun, eh?" he whispered, and I grinned as I quietly thanked him for the contribution.

At the little table Tulip had claimed, I took my seat next to my books, between Cass and Tulip on one side, as Cass intently studied the images in his View-Master.

The volumes I'd collected were dense, with tiny text, so I opted to start reading Cass's romance novel, first. I didn't feel too guilty about taking the easy route. I already had a leg up on the others, having grown up with those scary stories about the Saint of Killers.

Soon, Jesse had joined us as well,slamming his own stack of thick books on the table. There was so much here._ Blood! The Grisly Battles That Built America _and _The Wounded Knee Massacre_ and _Hamlet of Doom. Massacre at Ratwater, _

_Angel of Death, Grit & Revenge _and even a best-selling romance series called _Love Conquers All_—and that was only the beginning.

I began to feel overwhelmed with all we had to do, but Cass didn't sweat a thing.

"Check it out," Cass said, pulling the View-Master in front of my eyes. It displayed sepia-toned photos of a battlefield. "I used to drop acid and flick through these for hours, man."

He chuckled brightly, and I had to love him for that. Jesse, on the other hand, did not seem happy with Tulip's tools of choice as she pressed the first tape into her Walkman, the headphones sat around her neck.

"Really?" he scolded. "A book on tape?"

"Still a book," she said as she closed the tape tray and slid the headphones up over her ears before firmly pressing the play button.

Everyone firmly involved in their own research, I committed to reading the novel. I shouldn't have been too surprised that it was actually illuminating and full of great insights into the Saint, and the life that led into him becoming a myth. People really do have a tendency to underestimate the value of romantic historical fiction.

_"Back when he was just a man, before the world shook to the thunder of his guns, there was yet some good in his heart,"_ the story began.

Even before he became whatever he was today, the Saint possessed a reputation for violent bloodshed. He'd slain more than 200 men (and many dozens of horses) as a Confederate soldier during the Civil War, slaughtering at Manassas and Antietam, and being responsible for 77 kills during the Battle of Gettysburg alone.

_"He'd fought for the South for no reason he could recall, other than for the same one all men fought for:" _the text explained, _"because he'd been a damn fool."_

And then he went on that way for a while, seeking conflict wherever he went. And yet, somehow, it was that desire for destruction that had guided him to a kind of redemption.

Near a creek, on the Texas side of the Mexican border, he'd massacred a group of Kiowa natives, simply because there had been a hefty bounty on their scalps. He had no idea a lovely young German woman had been kidnapped by them two weeks previous and that he'd just become her unwitting savior.

She'd been taken from a stagecoach headed to Laredo. Her brother lived there, and when her prospects ran out where she'd been living in Pittsburgh, she decided she might as well make the journey out to watch over his children.

She didn't know it would nearly get her killed, and certainly wasn't aware of the infamy of the man who'd saved her. He offered to travel with her the two days it would take to arrive in Laredo.

She believed it was some kind of miracle that she'd been rescued, and she was more than happy to voice it. Her abuse at the hand of her captors had been horrendous, but even before that she had no love in her heart for the country's native people. She'd contemplated the unthinkable in order to escape their hands.

But the cowboy was quick to correct her judgment.

_"They learned a lot of it from us," _he'd educated her._ "In our hearts we're as savage as they are. Indians an' whites ain't but two tribes of butchers, fightin' over a stretch of dirt. What'll decide it in the end is who's meanest."_

She didn't buy that at all. She was devoutly religious, and she believed he'd been sent directly by God to pluck her from the clutches of the devil. That civilized folks, like their kind, would always win out. That was how he'd selflessly taken out all five of her captors without their getting a single shot in, she reasoned.

He countered that he didn't even know he was rescuing her, that they'd been too drunk to retaliate, that he'd taken them by surprise and given them no time to react.

She was taken aback by his bluntness. His treatment was anything but delicate. He didn't sugar coat the situation. And while he was unafraid of contradicting her, he also wasn't doing so to be contrarian. He simply spoke his mind, and she found that profoundly refreshing.

It went that way for the two days it took to get to Laredo. She was a feisty one, eager to discuss politics and faith and the ways of the world. He debated her, she thought, like he might debate a man. He wouldn't back down to just spare her feelings. At the same time, he didn't believe he was right simply because she was a woman. He conceded points here and there, and so did she. She'd never met a man like him, as unorthodox as he might be. Despite herself, she started enjoying her time with him.

In fact, she nearly dreaded finally arriving in Laredo when the time came. When she reunited with her brother, Johnny, she told him about her rescuer's good deeds, his sharpshooting, and how he'd safely escorted her for two days to the town.

Johnny recognized the man immediately, his nasty reputation preceding him, and chastised his sister for her stupidity. How dare she get rescued by a known murderer, with a taste for death and a penchant for killing anyone who displeased him. He said the cowboy was an evil being rivaling the devil. She was lucky to be alive.

That was enough to convince her—but not of the point he'd wanted. Instead of heeding her brother's word, she'd turned back to her hero, who was preparing to head out. She asked whether he was leaving, and when he said he was, she spoke the words singing in her heart.

"_Then, I realize this is forward of me, sir, and most improper,"_ she stated,_ "but this country seems to breed directness. I would like to go with you."_

He couldn't understand. He'd seen the way her brother gestured at him, and angrily postured himself. He'd clearly warned her about him, and yet, here she was in front of him. He told her it was all the truth, or close to it. All he could offer her was a front row seat to the killing fields of his life.

_"You saved me," _she insisted. _"Theres more to you than just a killer._.. _I want to do some good out here in the wilderness, or else my faith in God and my belief in decency are worthless. And I can do the most good by going with you."_

He, on the other hand, insisted she was wrong. He was a killer, plain and simple.

But she was willing—eager, even—to stay and disprove him. And then he was surprised by how badly he wanted her to stay. How badly he wanted her to _try_.

_"And much to his amazement he went with her, for not one soul had ever placed an ounce of faith in him before," _the story read. _"It unfolded before his eyes like a fiction he could not believe he was a part of."_

The two settled in New Mexico in a little, isolated cabin in the mountains, as far away from the nearest town as they could manage. Slowly, the love he held for killing was replaced with love for the woman who soon became his wife.

Of course, this was a romance novel, so it delved a bit into the juicy stuff as well. The love-making was a little vanilla and chaste, but descriptive enough to be tantalizing in its own way.

I knew I was probably wasting my time by reading those parts thoroughly—I'm sure no historian had made accurate notes on the Saint's sexual history, and this was all speculation—but I couldn't resist a bit of smut.

And then there was the relationship itself. They challenged each other while respecting the other deeply, carving out a place in the world that suited their needs. It was always touching, and never boring, and I almost found myself attached to the man who'd almost ended my life.

As I read, Cass would also tap my shoulder to show me panels from the Saint of Killers comics he'd been reading. Though my book described the woman as brunette, and the lovely young woman depicted in his comics was blonde, both seemed to convey much of the same information. At the same time, those frames also teased the horrors to come.

For 10 years, the cowboy hung up his guns, killing only animals to feed his family, and to barter pelts for cash and other necessities.

During that time, the couple had also had a daughter, and he felt the strange, foreign sense of love in his heart grow even more powerful.

Even still, he couldn't buy into the faith his wife and daughter held. He'd seen things that would make believing in a just, good God impossible, and even reading from a Bible made him feel like he was trespassing on grounds he was never created to tread upon.

His wife told him God had changed him, and given him the charmed life he now led. He knew God had done no such thing. It was his wife whose kindness had showed him who he could be. And though they disagreed, they both appreciated the fact he was truly a changed man.

That was where this version of the story ended, a tale of love to the very end. With the others still invested in their own reading, I decided it wise to keep going. Another paperback simply titled _Saber _looked adequately pulpy, and it seemed to pick up just where I needed it to.

Because then, as if the heavens were dead set on proving the Saint right, a test was sent his way. His daughter was 8 years old in 1886, when the fever came.

Her illness was dire, and she wouldn't make it through without the proper medicine, so he rode off, making the three-day journey to Ratwater, Texas, on horseback.

That previously unknown detail gave me chills. Once upon a time, Annville had been Ratwater, and I didn't appreciate the way these histories uncomfortably weaved together.

His ride was long, and hot, and treacherous, but he made it to Cooley's saloon, where the Ratwater doctor resided. It's said the physician was a drunkard, forcing the cowboy to wait until morning for that life-saving elixir.

That delay was bad enough, but he soon discovered the ugliness of the place. The son of a family passing through had been forced to watch his father's murder, and his mother's assault. As soon as he could be out of this place, he would vow never to return. Not to mention the fact he'd nearly been recognized. His history preceded him, after all, and however much his soul had changed, there was no escaping his past.

Tales say he waited through the night and got the medicine, and was on his way home when he suddenly returned to town—who could say why. That had been his tragic mistake.

This time, there was no doubt in the mind of the local preacher that be was the murderer of legend. The Saint was beaten, and his beloved horse shot, and he was forced to make the long trek home on foot. Even so, he never gave up, clutching the vital vial of medicine in his fist all the way home.

But it was too late. _Days_ too late. His daughter was lost, and in his absence, his wife went along with her. Cass's comic graphically illustrated crows picking at their remains.

Everything he'd cultivated, and everything that composed the man he'd become, was gone in an instant. His killing instinct returned. He armed himself, with no intentions of ever coming back to his godforsaken home.

"_So once again he entered Texas, but this time his mission was not mercy,"_ the book explained. _"All he had was a dull aching vengeance, for a world destroyed—a world, he now suspected, he had never had a right to. His lot was blood and slaughter, nothing more. And those ten years he'd fooled himself were crawling like a demon in his gut."_

And then he returned to the saloon, revolvers ready, and he had no qualms about blowing away the minister who'd been responsible for his pain—for the destruction of his humanity.

And because he was so far gone, he didn't stop there. He killed every man, woman and child in the packed saloon that day. By the time he was finished, most of Ratwater's meager population of 192 had been whittled down to nothing.

_"And he damned himself,"_ the tale continued._ "Utterly, and for all time. No matter what was to come, or what choices he made, that was the moment he spilled innocent blood. That was the moment he damned his soul."_

And then, as if it was his chosen time to head home to Hell, a tornado ravaged the town, killing the Saint and what was left of Ratwater's survivors.

Now that was funny, in a twisted sort of way. Ratwater was torn down by a force of nature, only to be replaced with Annville. Weird how history repeats itself like that. This book seemed to think the same thing.

"_They died because it was inevitable. Because they were there. Because in the end, his ire ran far too deep,"_ it read. _"Perhaps the town was cursed: a black hole not quite Texas, not quite Hell, that sucked in badness and spat out hate—but he would not have thought it so. He knew what he was doing on that dreadful bloody day. This was his vengeance. And the beginning of his legend."_

And that was truly the strange thing about the Saint of Killers, because anyone else's story would have ended at his death. But this man—if he could be considered that anymore—was something else entirely.

Because even though he was sent to Hell, it's said that his spirit continued to roam the earth, gathering spirits generated in violent and traumatic events.

Not just that, but his twin Walker Colt revolvers had become something more than the weapons of a mortal being. Powered by unadulterated hate, their ammunition was endless, the guns would never misfire, and the shots would always hit their targets. I was thankful he hadn't been aiming for me that fateful day after we left Annville. The book described his gunshots as making an echoing, otherworldly, endless sound. Recalling the times I'd heard them made me feel slightly sick.

And then there was the detail I found most frightening of all_: "No wound they gave would be anything but fatal."_

I wondered how this information had been stumbled upon—and who had lived to tellit, and pass it on to the next generation in the form of stories and tall tales.

Unsurprisingly, the last paragraph of this book thought it apt to say as much:

_"And so much blood has flowed since then that we no longer know how much of it is truth, and how much only nightmare."_

It was about then that the four of us each felt we'd gathered enough intel to discuss and contribute. Cass spoke first.

"All right," he said. "Weaknesses? I'm gonna start. He's not very well-liked—which is a weakness of a sort. He is also a vicious, child-murderin' maniac with no soul. Although in this case, you know, that might be a strength. I don't know."

"He lost his family," Tulip added. "Now, I don't know if that's a weakness so much as a... thing that happened."

I knew they'd both get up to speed. I was proud of them.

"It seems he can't resist killing anyone he comes across," I thought out loud. "Not exactly useful, unless we're willing to put a bunch of innocent people in harm's way to save our asses."

"Could come in handy in a pinch," Jesse shrugged. "Anything else?"

"Well he hates God, not that it really helps us with our search," I added. "Once he lost his wife and daughter, there was no coming back."

"You know what?" Jesse began asking—but he never got to finish the thought, because that was when Cassidy, loudly and urgently, interrupted him.

"Holy mother of bleedin' shite!" he exclaimed. "I forgot about _Denis_!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have gone a little overboard with the Saint of Killers backstory, but I love it and had a hard time leaving any of it out. If you've read the comics, you know there's more history there than what they let on in the show (and the bits in italics are lifted directly from those panels).
> 
> As always, I want to thank you SO much for reading. I appreciate you! I hope that if you liked it, you'll leave a comment telling me why :)


	33. The Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a race against time as the gang rushes home to rescue Denis, and Jesse runs off to find a soul with only one hour on the clock.

_Shit._

Cassidy searched frantically for the phone in his pocket as I my heart sank. Nothing felt worse than getting Denis mixed up in all of this—and worst of all, not keeping him top of mind in the midst of the chaos.

The horrified, guilty look on Cass's face made his feelings clear. I didn't have to tell him we'd both messed up. All I could do was hope, from the bottom of my heart, that it wouldn't be too late.

He dialed his son as fast as he possibly could, and then waited, fidgeting painfully before Denis finally picked up.

"_Denis! Denis... Denis_ listen... uh..." he struggled for the words. We weren't prepared for this, and under the pressure he couldn't think straight.

I gave him a soft look and held out my hand. He wasn't too proud to hand me the phone and let me handle it.

On the other line, Denis was wondering how Cassidy even had his number. As calmly yet urgently as I could, in my best rusty French, I warned him not to go back to his apartment, that it was dangerous and he should go somewhere else—anywhere else—for the time being.

I didn't understand when his voice suddenly took an angry tone. He grumbled that this was one of Cassidy's schemes, that he'd already seen the front door was busted in. He said he expected Cassidy would pay to have it fixed as I was forced to raise my voice, telling him that there was a killer on the prowl, and that he was not to go inside, no matter what.

And then I heard him shriek on the other end of the phone.

"_Denis_ got home," I murmured with terror in my voice as I heard him stammer something about his medicine. He was begging for help. I felt utterly helpless, and didn't know what to say to Cass as the reality dawned on him.

And then Jesse straightened up, a look of determination crossing his face.

"Give me the phone," Jesse said, and I did. Whatever plan he had, it would be better than sticking around doing nothing. "**_I'm here_**," he bellowed through Genesis. "**_Don't hurt him. I'm comin'."_**

* * *

We hurried back to the apartment as fast as our legs would carry us. Despite Cassidy's protests, Jesse believed it would be wise for Tulip, Cass and me to stay outside the apartment, waiting at the foot of the staircase that led up toward the rooms, and allow Jesse to handle things for the time being.

As Jesse disappeared, Cass only stared up into the dark space at the mouth of the staircase. I nestled up to him, placing one hand on his back and another to his chest. Maybe he needed a reminder he wasn't alone. God, his heart was thumping, and I realized mine was, too.

"I shoulda remembered sooner," Cass shook his head, speaking softly. "I know I've not been a good... I haven't always treated _Denis_ right, but this is the worst bleedin' ting I've ever done to 'im."

"You can't be so hard on yourself," I told him. "Yeah, we should have thought of him earlier, but we're being pursued by a supernatural being, remember? You're allowed to get things a little scrambled."

"But we were sittin' in that air-conditioned library fer hours," he said. "I just looked at flipbooks and read comics 'n the like the whole time. Ya don't tink that's negligent?"

"I don't know, Cass," I was honest with him. "But none of us are gonna let anything happen to him, okay?"

All this time, Tulip's arms were crossed as she leaned in the doorway. She wasn't as invested as either of us, but it was clear she cared. It meant a lot.

"What do you think Jesse's doin' up there?" she asked.

"I don't know," I answered. "But he got this look on his face like he had a real plan. That's gotta count for something, right?"

"I have faith in him," Cass said, always staring upward. "I have to."

Not long after, Denis came trudging down the stairs, the hacking cough persistent in his chest. Cass ran up to meet him halfway, lending him a hand down the steps, and Denis didn't try to push him away this time. As he continued coughing, Cass gave him a gentle pat on the back.

_"Vouz allez bien?"_ Cass asked Denis if he was doing alright, but this time, instead of answering, he gave his father a sharp, slightly pathetic look.

He ignored the question, and instead asked about the identity of the latest unwelcome guest inside his home.

How could I even begin to explain? In English it would have been tough for me. In French, it was hopeless, but I had to try.

I described the Saint of Killers as a monster from Hell. He'd been a man, once, but now he was only a killer. We believed he'd been stopped, only for him to resurface at the worst possible time. I also told Denis we were sorry to drag him into this. We'd come up with a solution.

I wondered if I'd spoken properly, as he looked at me, mouth slightly agape. He simply looked at me like my words were the most absurd ramblings he'd ever heard.

He accused me of being on drugs, saying he shouldn't have expected anything else from Cassidy and his women.

I insisted I wasn't on drugs—none of us were. He started wheezing terribly and then there was a ruckus upstairs—the loud crash of breaking glass followed by an electric crackle that expanded in the air.

Soon, Jesse emerged, pacing carefully down the stairs to us. My skin pricked with heat as, from the top of the staircase, I could feel the gaze of the Saint of Killers. Maybe I was imagining things, but I felt as if his eyes were trained straight on me. It made my stomach squirm.

"What happened?" Tulip was the first to ask.

"He took the deal," Jesse said. "But you have to stay. All four of you."

As the Saint shifted his feet upstairs, the others noticed his presence.

"What about you?" she asked.

"I have to go get him somethin'," he answered. "A soul."

Now _that_ was one that would require some explaining when Jesse got back.

But we didn't have time to discuss it, because that was when the Saint barked an order for us to head upstairs. Frightened, and hoping Jess knew what the hell he was doing, Cass and I each got under one of Denis's arms and helped to lead him back up.

"_Allons_," Cass encouraged Denis up as Tulip and Jesse exchanged a few more words behind us.

"_Now_," the Saint grunted as we went up. "One hour, preacher."

An hour was no time at all, and Jesse disappeared in a hurry as we returned to the apartment, awaiting our fates.

At the doorway, I noticed the remains of an inhaler on the tiled linoleum floor. It had been crushed to smithereens under the pressure of something extremely heavy. Denis was in a bad way, and without his medication, I was sure things were only about to get worse.

The four of us made our way to the living room couch, where we saw that Denis's crappy, tiny TV had also been destroyed. The Saint had pulled up a chair in the kitchen, his hulking figure filling the room and guarding the front door.

A clock on the fireplace mantle, whose noise had blended fluidly into the sound of the space until now, seemed to tick angrily with each passing second. I wondered if one hour really was enough time to secure a soul—whatever that might actually entail.

Tulip preferred to stand, walking around, glancing occasionally at our captor as Cass and I sat at either side of Denis. Cassidy helped him sip from a water bottle. He appeared to be growing weaker by the minute.

When I took one of Denis's chilly, balmy hands in mine, he gave me an almost pathetic, knowing look.

This wasn't really the stuff covered in AP French, but I did my best.

I asked him if there was anything we could do to make him more comfortable. He said no, that nothing would help without his medicine. I promised we'd get it replaced as soon as we could, which prompted a number of questions. Why couldn't we go now? What did the Saint want, and what would happen if Jesse didn't come back in time? I answered as well as I could, and tried not to think about that last bit as Tulip retreated for a moment to her room.

Then he made a comment that made me stop in my tracks. He said of course Cassidy would bring this upon him—he was already dying a slow, painful death, so what would it matter if his life ended a little sooner at the hands of this demon? He didn't even sound upset, like it simply couldn't be helped. Like it was inevitable.

"Ada, what did he say?" Cassidy murmured, not yet at a level to understand most of our conversation, but clearly reading some of the meaning in my face.

"Cass," I said as gently as I could, "he says he's... dying."

Cass's face was so grave, then, and the sight of him broke my heart.

"Translate fer me?" he asked, and I nodded. "_Denis_, we're gonna get ya taken care of, and that's a promise," he said.

I translated, and Denis just laughed, quiet and dark, leading him into another dry coughing fit.

When he spoke, I carefully let Cass in on what he was saying.

"He says that's rich coming from you," I explained, sighing deeply. "Since he was little you've let him down. Missing birthdays. Ditching his mother. Gambling away the money that had been set aside for a puppy, and then disappearing for decades at a time. Now, he thinks you're only trying to impress me.

Cass went silent, then. He didn't have an excuse for any of it. Not a good one. Those painful words cut deep.

It was a long moment before he uttered, "_Je suis vraiment désolé._" It was a small apology, but he didn't seem to know what else to say. And then to me, he said, "Tell 'im we'll survive this, 'n I know there's notin' I can do to take back bein' a piece o' shite da, but I'm gonna do everytin' I can to make that all up to 'im."

I did, and I was surprised when Denis came back with a request.

"He says there's one thing you can do for him," I told Cass.

_"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" _Cassidy asked, wondering what that could possibly be, the hope raising in his voice.

_"Mords moi," _Denis exhaled, and Cassidy needed no translation. _Bite me. _

Cassidy's brow furrowed as that request washed over him. I think he was relieved when Tulip returned to the room, asking if Denis was doing okay. When Cassidy's answer made it clear he wasn't, Tulip immediately pulled out her phone and dialed Jesse. We had about 25 minutes left.

She bit the nail on her thumb as she waited for Jesse to pick up.

"Just uh, wonderin', how's it all goin'?" she asked him. "You close?"

She listened to him for a moment before speaking again.

"Okay, 'cause, uh, Denny is pretty sick," she told him. "He doesn't have his medicine."

More silence, and then she made a face, half frightened, half annoyed.

"Jesse?" she demanded. "You still there?"

That was followed by a lot of clarifying questions. Whatever Jess was getting up to, it was weird shit. And then she started naming objects—the same ones she'd wanted to throw into an explosive that time we snuck into the hospital. Sounded like he was making a bomb. That made me even more curious about this whole soul-collecting business.

She walked him through the process, and then sighed.

"He's gonna call back," she told us, not sounding so sure.

Denis coughed yet again as Cass gave him a soft, circular rub between his shoulder blades. Tulip watched, feeling sorry for the entire situation, knowing this went deeper than anyone had been letting on.

"All the time in the world, and I never learned how to speak French 'til now," he said with a soft, sad smile on his face.

Denis was resting now, his eyes closed as he struggled to breathe. At least in the moment, he seemed peaceful.

"He's your dad, isn't he?" Tulip asked. "Your uncle or somethin'?"

"No..." Cassidy shook his head with a sigh, finally ready to share. "He's my son."

Tulip was beyond shocked.

"No way," she said.

"Way," he replied with a sniffle. "Hard luck, eh? Havin' me fer a da."

"You still have time to be a good dad," I told him, and I meant it. He didn't respond to that, but I hoped with all my heart that he believed it as fully as I did. Of course, there was a larger choice weighing on his heart.

It was strange being here with Denis. Technically, he was like me—half human, half vampire, and yet far too mortal. I wondered how much of the hopelessness in his heart was the direct result of his dad's actions—and inactions. I wanted so badly to be able to go back, to help Cass with him while they still had decades together to form their relationship. Of course, I couldn't, but perhaps a bond would still be possible. I wondered about what the future might bring.

It was then that Tulip abruptly stormed out of the room, and into the kitchen none of us dared to enter. Cass called after her, but it was no use.

There, she stood bravely in the doorway facing the Saint of Killers, who even sitting in the dark seemed to be nearly at eye level with her.

"He's sick," Tulip told him. "The old man. Cassidy's son."

Those last two words provoked the tiniest reaction in the otherwise stoic Saint and I knew precisely what she was up to. I thought it was a foolhardy mistake, but I admired her guts.

"He needs medicine, so let him go," she continued as she approached him. I rose from the couch to peek into the kitchen and observe. "Look, you'll still have the three of us, so I really don't see why not."

He didn't respond to her. Didn't move a muscle as he sat there, his face obscured by his hat. She continued looking around, inching closer to him, considering the weight of her words before she spoke next.

"I read about your little girl," she said, with a gentle care she reserved for critical situations like this one. "What would you do if it was..."

And then in one swift action, he rose as he grabbed Tulip by the throat, holding her up in the air with one strong hand as she whimpered and her heeled boots, two feet off the ground, kicked futilely.

"Preacher's not here by six, medicine won't help," he grumbled up at her.

Before I knew what I was doing, I'd run into the room. I was pulling at the Saint's long coat, shouting at him, striking my fists against his back, trying to push him in any possible way to lessen his grip on Tulip. Useless. It was like trying to fight a mountain.

But then he dropped Tulip to the floor. Shegasped for breath as she righted herself, and then gave me a desperate, pitiful look as the Saint turned around to regard me, looking me up and down. It seemed he was eight feet tall. Cass had also rushed into the kitchen upon hearing me, looking frightened but ready to intervene if need be.

I couldn't read this shell of a man at all, but I had to assume I was dead meat. Certainly, it was my turn to face his wrath.

Instead, he said nothing, and he repositioned his chair as he sat back down in it. Baffled, but not eager to squander this opportunity, I helped Tulip up as we moved back into the other room.

"Are you okay?" I asked her as the three of us returned to the living room. She was clearly shaken.

"I..." she clutched at her throat where the Saint had grabbed her. She seemed lost, her eyes wet with tears. I didn't know what to do but wrap my arms around her and hold her tight. She clutched me back for a long time. There was no way I was letting him hurt her again.

"You don't know how brave you are," I told her. "Thank you for trying to save him."

She nodded rapidly as Cassidylooked over us both with an unsure gaze. When I broke the hug with Tulip, I held her at arm's length and looked her in the eye. I couldn't take away what had happened, but she gave me the tiniest nod of thank you. I hoped it had helped.

And nearly as soon as that had broken, Cass had his long, strong arms draped around me as well.

"Don't you be doin' that," he whispered in my ear, not angry but urgent. "Honestly, he coulda killed ya. In fact, I don't see why he didn't."

That was the strange thing. Why _hadn't_ I faced what Tulip had?

"I don't know what came over me," I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Cass. But... You saw that too, right? Something about this is weird."

"Is there anytin' in our lives that ain't?" he asked.

"Good point," I said. "But I think there's something to this. Trust me."

The intense look in his eyes told me he was going to, but he was uneasy about all of it.

I glanced up at the clock again. It was seven til 6. Jesus, Jesse was cutting this thing close. We all felt it—a sense of impending doom closing in on us.

Tulip hurriedly pulled out her phone again and called Jesse back.

"Did you get it?" she asked him, followed by an incredulous, "Almost?"

She massaged her forehead with the fingers of her free hand.

"You’re not gonna make it, are you?" she questioned, and as he answered she breathed deeply and her eyes trailed around the room. "Okay. See you then."

She hung up with a deep sigh, and her anxious expression did nothing to quell our fears.

We held our breath and no one spoke as we had just five minutes left, then three. Then, from outside we heard a church bell chime six times.

Our time fully out, the Saint loudly rose from his seat in the other room.

His movements were lumbering but steady as he made his way into the living room, boot spurs jangling, with his long, sharp saber in hand.

"Time's up," he grunted, and when I saw him make a beeline for Tulip, I stepped directly in front of her, arms slightly outstretched. This was probably the dumbest thing I'd ever done, but I had a hunch I couldn't ignore, and like I'd anticipated, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Move," he demanded.

"No," I refused.

He scowled gruffly, and I knew I was on to something.

"You can't hurt me," I said. "Why?"

"The angel," is all he answered after a brief pause.

Now I understood. Sweet, wonderful Fiore. He promised he would handle the Saint for me, and he did. I almost cried at the thought of him, as it fully sank in that he was gone. He'd protected me even as he died, and though it didn't go far enough to save the others, I had to deeply appreciate what he'd done.

"Now move," he said again.

When I didn't budge, he glared at me.

"Suit yourself," he said, and in a flash, before I could so much as gasp, he pulled a revolver out of his holster and pulled the trigger, shooting, not at me, but past my shoulder, the deafening blast leaving my ears ringing.

Nothing could prepare me for what I saw next.

Cassidy was slumped against the wall, his bloody fingers clutching the large hole in the center of his chest.

"Ada," he weakly murmured, before his body slumped down the wall, revealing the bullet embedded in the old wallpaper behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first, y'all know I would never do anything too horrible to Cassidy, right? I hope this cliffhanger is more exhilarating than panic-inducing. Things will be okay!
> 
> Aside from that, thank you so much for reading this far. I always love hearing from my readers, so please comment if you have anything to say :)


	34. The First Scar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ada learns more about the limitations of the Saint of Killers.

**_"Stop!" _**Jesse ordered as he threw open the front door of the apartment, and though the Saint didn't have to follow that order, he was listening. At least he was a man if his word. "I'm here."

Without thinking, I left Tulip and ran to Cassidy, shot and bleeding on the ground. My heart pounded in my ears and I struggled to keep down the contents of my stomach as it lurched. This could _not_ be happening.

"No, no no no no..." I stammered through tears as I crouched on the ground with him, applying pressure to his gaping wound, Cass only whimpered gently from the pain.

"Ada..." he whispered my name again. God, I was glad he could still speak, that he was still here with me, but deep down I understood how little that might mean. Not when it came to the Saint of Killers. I wasn't ready to lose him. To lose _everything_.

I wished so badly I could turn back time—to do anything but what I'd just done. How could I be so arrogant? So delusional?

"I'm so fucking stupid, I'm so, so sorry Cass," I rushed my words as I cried against him. "Please don't die on me. _Please_. I love you so much and I can't fucking do this without you. I can't believe I let you..."

My words were interrupted as Cass raised his head and pressed his lips firmly to mine, and in a second I felt the tight nerves in my body relax. This wasn't the last kiss of a dying man. It was passionate and triumphant.

"Shhhh," he hummed in my ear when our lips separated. "I tink I'm gonna be okay."

I didn't know what to say then, so I just put my arms around him, holding him with all my might, being mindful of his wound but not giving a damn if he bled all over me.

"You scared the living shit out of me," I shouted, now crying from joy.

"Well, you can say we're even," he smiled.

"You two alright?" Jesse asked, concerned, as he approached. I'd nearly forgotten he was there—and that both our chests (and my hands) were smeared with fresh blood.

"We'll live," Cass croaked dryly as he wiped tears away from my cheeks. He barely let the pain get to him, but it must have been incredible. Jesus, I was so relieved.

"Do you have any blood here?" I questioned Cass urgently as he grimaced from the pain. The sooner he could be back to normal, the better.

"No," he shook his head. "_Denis_ always shouts at me when I put it in the fridge. We'll need to do a run."

Made sense. That was one thing you couldn't just tote around in a pillowcase.

Cassidy had the strength to stand, and with Jesse's help, I got him to the kitchen. Denis and Tulip were already waiting there, Tulip looking mortified, and the sight of Cass okay made her almost tear up, too.

"I thought you were a goner," she admitted, considering a hug but deciding against it. "Aren't the Saint's gunshots supposed to kill, y'know, everything?"

That's what I had thought. The Saint, without fail, would end the lives of mortals, of course, but also infinitely regenerating angels. Supposedly Hell's minions, too. So why not vampires? Cass must have been something else entirely, and for that I was more eternally grateful than I'd ever been.

"Guess not," Cass shrugged, still clutching the hole in his chest. "But Ada's got the real power here. He can't hurt her."

"Yeah," Tulip said. "What the hell's that about?"

"Fiore was a good friend," I said simply, doing my best not to get choked up. There was so much more to it, of course, but what happened in his room that fateful day was between me, Cass and the angels.

In a way, we both were immune to the Saint's supernatural violence. That felt absurdly lucky—or perhaps someone out there was really looking after us. I wondered if Fiore had known all along. Perhaps the careful time we'd taken with him had saved us both.

Meanwhile, I realized Jesse was starting to look impatient. After all, this whole time we'd been waiting for him to return and save us, and the second he got back, all we were talking about was what had happened in his absence.

When we looked done, Jesse revealed a little vial containing a small chunk of something white, glimmering and stunningly beautiful.

"That's a soul?" Tulip asked, and Jesse affirmed that it was. "How do you know about all this stuff?"

"Family business," he said, almost lifelessly. Whatever Jesse had to do for it, it must have been hell.

Jesse promised to deal with the Saint. In the meantime, with two very unwell men on our hands, we had to drum up a plan to get them better. Denis required medical attention, fast, while Cass needed blood—potentially a lot of it.

"So we all go to the hospital," Tulip suggested. "Get Denny checked into the E.R. while I raid some blood for Cass."

She said it with a little smile, like the mere thought of a break-in put her in a better mood.

"Well, wait," Cass started. "What day o' the week is it?"

"Thursday," I answered.

"Ah, then that's not gonna work," Cass explained. "Hospital gets new blood shipments Friday mornin's, 'n when the supply's low, good fuckin' luck gettin' at it. I know that better'n anybody. Now the blood bank up the road? That's easy."

Tulip frowned a little at the word "easy," but still seemed eager nonetheless.

"You sure you're up for that?" I asked her.

"Yeah. I could use a distraction," she said. After her confrontation with the Saint, she really did. "And I could also use a lookout. Ada, you in?"

Of course I was.

"Would that be alright with you, Cass?" I asked. I hated leaving him at this crucial moment, but the same went for Tulip, and I knew he could handle himself.

"Oh yeah," Cass replied, incredibly chipper for a man with a hole in his chest. "I can handle _Denis_ and the hospital. Tanks for the help, bot' of youse."

And the next kiss he planted on my lips was just as lovely as the last.

"You both might wanna..." Tulip said, pointing at the bloody fronts of our shirts. Oh right.

Cass and I both threw on jackets, and I thoroughly washed my hands, and that little problem was solved.

It was soon that Cass helped Denis out the door, and by then Jesse seemed like he was very ready for Tulip and me to leave. He had the Saint to tend to. At long last, our harrowing ordeal with him would be over.

But as we were ready to exit, Jesse noticed the state Tulip was in.

"You okay?" he asked her.

"Mm-hmm," she nodded. She was still clearly on edge, and I didn't blame her. Her tone really didn't say that she was okay at all. "You?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," he said. Again, there was a listlessness to his voice that perturbed me—but we had some blood to steal.

Just being out of the dingy apartment, back into the open New Orleans air made it feel like a new day, and it seemed to do wonders for Tulip. It was muggy, but not uncomfortable, and she wrapped one arm around my waist, holding a black briefcase in the other hand as we made our way ever closer to the blood bank up the street.

"You're looking better," I told her, starting to feel a bit antsy as the adrenaline from our experience with the Saint left my blood and I considered the caper on the horizon.

"Uh, the giant immortal cowboy who's been trailin' us since Sunday is finally gettin' gone," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Course I'm better."

"Good," I grinned.

"And thanks," she said, getting uncharacteristically quiet, "for savin' my ass back there. You coulda got yourself killed—for a second I seriously thought you'd got Cass killed. What I'm sayin' is, it means a lot."

"Hey, what are friends for?" I asked, and then she turned to me, looked deep down into my soul with her profound, dark eyes, and pressed her soft, full lips to mine. I kissed her back happily, knowing I shouldn't get to used to this feeling, but relishing it all the same.

"Now what was that for...?" I started asking, until I saw that Mrs. Barbaret was just around the next corner.

"Evenin' Mrs. Barbaret," Tulip introduced herself with a smile, and this time, she didn't have to force it.

"Tulip!" the woman exclaimed with delight."So good to see you again, and so soon. And you've got your friend..."

"Ada," I introduced myself.

"That's right," she nodded. "Now, I heard about your Viktor business, and it's a shame about the whole thing, but if you're both happy, I'm happy for you."

"Thanks, Mrs. Barbaret," Tulip said. "It means a lot to hear that from a friend. And we are. Happy, I mean."

"Now I gotta get goin'," Mrs. Barbaret said, "but my dinner invite still stands. Bring friends. I'd love to have you."

Cass was right. Mrs. Barbaret was _really_ nice.

She waved us goodbye and went on her way, and we continued to our destination.

"Good save," I told Tulip as we strolled shoulder to shoulder. "We're pretty good at this, aren't we?"

"Mhmm," Tulip mused. "Teamwork, right?"

That set my sights on what was next, and got my mind running at a mile a minute.

"So... when we get there, what will you need me to do?" I asked, realizing how jumpy I sounded. "Like, stand out front and make a distraction, or pull a secret alarm somewhere?"

"Nah," she said. "I've got the bank thing handled, actually. I just wanted your company, mostly."

That warmed me right down to the heart, and though I was slightly disappointed not to jump into another heist, I was mostly relieved. After all, Tulip was a pro, and mostly I'd just be holding her back.

"Well, thanks," I smiled. "Plus, it lends some credence to our cover."

"Yep. That, too," she said in a tone that convinced me it hadn't crossed her mind. "Anyway, I know the place. There's a coffee shop across the street. You can relax, sip on somethin' and I'll be outta there in a flash. And get me somethin', too."

"Anything in particular that you'd like?" I asked her.

"Surprise me," she replied with a grin. "And I guess if the cops show up, head home and I'll catch up with you later."

"Are you serious...?" I tried to ask, but she cheekily interrupted me with another peck on the lips, and immediately ducked through the large swinging doors of the building we were passing. I hadn't even realized we were already there.

I knew it probably wouldn't come to that, but I really didn't like the idea of ditching Tulip if things got hairy. I tried not to think about it as I went across the way.

All I wanted was a hot cocoa with an espresso shot, but if I knew anything about Tulip, it was that she'd want something sweet, creamy and brightly colored. When I spotted a blended cotton candy drink with vibrant swirling stripes on the menu, I knew that was _it_.

I took the drinks to one of the little tables at their outdoor patio area and took sips from my cup of cocoa as I tried not to keep anxiously glancing at the blood bank. I definitely didn't want this all to go to hell because I couldn't keep it together.

I was pleased I didn't have to wait too long. In fact, she didn't take more than 10 minutes to come back out, looking satisfied, and with the weight of the briefcase pulling her arm down slightly more than it had before she entered.

She motioned at me to follow her, and bringing the drinks along, I handed Tulip her perspirating cup, blue and pink swirls visible through the plastic. With a spring in her step, she slurpes up a big first gulp of her only slightly melted drink. Her eyes lit up as she did.

"Now how'd you know this'd be my favorite thing in the whole entire world?" she beamed as she offered me an elbow to loop my arm through. I did, and we continued walking with arms looped.

"I had a hunch," I shrugged. "Plus, I owed you for the job well done." I pointed at the briefcase.

"Hey," she said. "Anything for you and Cass." And as she continued drinking down the absurdly sugary, artificially colored concoction, I got the feeling she wasn't being hyperbolic in the slightest.

* * *

When we got back, Jesse and Denis were nowhere to be found and Cass was in our bed, waiting patiently as he pressed some gauze to his wound.

Tulip handed me the suitcase with a little nod and I rushed it to Cass, closing our door for some privacy before opening it up for him like a _Deal or No Deal_ girl.

"Any preference?" I asked him as we both saw it was packed to the brim with maybe a dozen big bags of blood.

I had to feel slightly guilty for stealing these from people who likely needed them, but I reasoned Cass did, too. Not that it was a good excuse. I told myself I'd donate to make up for it. Eventually.

"Well, I have had a hankerin' for type A recently," he drawled.

"Can you really taste the difference?" I asked as I grabbed an A-labeled bag from the top of the pile and handed it to him. He detached a tube on the bag and started sucking it like a straw, hungrily lapping the stuff up.

"Sure," he answered between gulps. "It's like wine-tastin', y'know."

He took the next swig in thoughtfully, swishing it around in his mouth a little before swallowing. His teeth were red when he spoke.

"Some buttery notes," he described. "A little tobacco, a little pear and that."

"I still can't tell if you're joking," I said.

"I'm dead serious," he answered. "Speakin' of..."

With half the bag drained, he lifted his shirt to see how much he'd healed.

"Shite," he muttered.

"What's wrong?" I asked, concerned something horrible had happened.

"It's just healin' slow is all," Cass explained. "That shoulda sealed up most of it."

Indeed, he no longer had a hole going all the way through him, but though the flesh had come back together deep inside, it was still a large gaping wound at the surface, and the skin hadn't reformed back over it. It looked pretty horrific.

"Anything I can do?" I winced.

"No, love," he said. "I'll finish off this bag and then, it's weird, but I tink it needs time. The bullet wasn't like anytin' I've ever experienced before. Sharper pain. Hotter. Deadlier."

"That wasn't any old bullet that ripped through you," I told him. "But know I'm happy to get you anything you need in the meantime to help you heal, all right?"

He smiled softly, like he already knew that, as he slurped.

"Ya don't know yer blood type, do ya?" he asked when he'd nearly finished.

"No, why?"

"Cos when I said what I wanted, I was expectin' ya to answer, all bashful-like, 'Why, that's my type!'" he laughed.

I grinned wide.

"So _I'm_ A," I said with a blush, and he nodded. I guess he should know that. He'd tasted me, after all. "Good to know. And yours?"

"B," he answered. "More berry and cedar. Not me favorite, honestly."

The bag was now empty, and Cass's injury had basically filled up, but was coated in thick scar tissue. Now that was unusual. Every other time he'd been seriously maimed, he always came back to me unscathed.

"Well this is different," he said, touching at the entry with his fingers, recoiling at the sensation. "That might actually leave a mark."

That was the other thing. He didn't have many scars. Besides one broad mark on the back of his head, which he'd received in a nasty fall when he was a kid—before he'd turned—he was clear of them.

I actually caught him smiling at the thought.

"Me first scar in more 'n a hundred years," he mused. "Life really never is borin' wit' you in it, Adelaide."

\--

Cass had me shove the entire suitcase in the fridge, to avoid any objections, and then we rested.

Cass was the little spoon, and I held my arms close around him, carefully avoiding his aching chest. He relaxed easily there, both his pulse and his breath slowing.

"I noticed Denis isn't here," I mentioned as we laid there. "Are they keeping him overnight?"

"Yeah," Cass said. "He was strugglin' to breathe pretty bad all the way there, but they got him his medicine, and it helped. The whole ting was pretty stressful on 'im and they wanna monitor how he does."

"All of this must be very sudden for you," I said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, love," Cass shook his head. "I'm the one who should be. I was negligent fer so long. You've done not'in' but help me, y'know that?"

"I do my best," I said. "Is there something we can do for him?"

"The doctor said it's congestive heart failure," he answered. "No cure, but we can slow it down. He's already quit smokin'—I was quite proud o' that—but startin' tomorrow we maybe should start takin' 'im out on walks, get him some exercise 'n fresh air. Help 'im eat better, too. He eats like Tulip."

That last thought made him snort a little.

"By the way, how'd tings go with her?" he asked.

"They were good," I answered. "You really have her to thank for getting you the blood. I was mostly emotional support."

"And how was she, emotions-wise?"

"A lot better, now the Saint's out of our hair," I answered. "She was ecstatic, basically. And very affectionate. You know she kissed me twice?"

"Well, I don't blame her," he laughed. "If I wasn't yer husband 'n I had any chance to get in a sneaky kiss wit' ya, I'd take it."

"I don't think it's like that, Cass," I said.

"If ya say so," he shrugged his shoulders, before turning his head up to look at me, and getting a sneaky little kiss of his own.

"Would it make _Denis_ feel better to have visitors?" I asked. "The three of us could stop by, bring him something... healthy, I guess."

"No no no," Cass insisted. "He doesn't wanna see me face right now. He was pretty cross with me. Asked me to leave."

He looked sullen, and dejected, and I understood.

"He asked you to bite him again," I said.

He nodded gently.

"And what did you tell him?"

"I said no, o' course," Cassidy answered in a huff. "Absolutely not. Obviously."

His reasoning wasn't so obvious to me.

"You know I trust you, Proinsias," I told him. "And I feel for you. So tell me why helping him is such a bad idea."

He stared at me, deep in though for a moment, before he answered.

"Are ya _sure_ ya wanna know?" Cass asked seriously, shifting painfully in bed to sit up and look me straight in the eye. "Because—listen—there's some shite about me, that I've done, who I was, that might be hard to hear. And look, I've never told a soul about any o' this before in me life. We could be here a while."

"Well, I don't have any plans, and I'm ready to hear all of it," I told him softly, and he took in one deep, weighty before he spoke again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's up a little early, as I didn't want to keep you all waiting too long for it. I told you things were gonna be okay! 
> 
> Cass surviving shots from the Saint of Killers is actually canonical—in the comics, at least. I was always fascinated by that detail, and I'm excited I finally got to include it here.
> 
> Again, thank you, thank you, thank you from the very bottom of my heart for reading this and caring about this story. If you have anything to say, please don't be afraid of leaving a comment, and stay tuned for the next one!


	35. 1916

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassidy reveals more of his storied past, and finally asks Ada the question that's been turning in his mind.

"Ya already know I was just a lad when I turned. The 27th of April, 1916. Y' know, it's burned in me mind, that date.

"The Easter Rising, it came to be called. We were just kids. We t'ought it was such a grand ting, goin' out to send the Brits home, fightin' to proclaim our own republic. They said dyin' fer yer country, now that was the honorable ting to do. Sometin' about makin' our voices impossible to ignore. If we died, it'd be in service o' the cause. We were too young 'n dumb to see it was a load o' bollocks.

"But I s'pose 'justice' 'n 'service' were just what we got, cos not one o' the men I marched out wit' made it past the fourt' day. Outmanned. Outgunned. They blasted us all to hell and I only lived 'cos I hid like a bleedin' coward. Me best mate screamed for his life 'n I couldn't bring meself to fight for 'im. Save 'is life. And they killed 'im then 'n there in cold blood.

"When I could, I ran. Away from the danger, but also the hurt, 'n the pain, 'n me own damn worthlessness. It was so cold 'n dark that when sometin' grabbed me, and started draggin' me, I couldn' see a ting. It pulled me under, right into the bog 'n I t'ought I was done fer. I couldn' fight back. Couldn' even swim. What was the bloody point of takin' the cowards way out o' the war and then dyin' here? God, I felt useless. Pat'etic.

"And then that ting, whatever it was, it bit me right in the neck. I t'ought it was gonna eat me alive. But it didn't. It drank, 'n drank, and then it let me go 'n I didn't understand.

"I was lucky it was night, y'know. So lucky. I wandered, dizzy 'nconfused 'n hurtin', but somehow I found shelter in a barn fer the night. The bite pained 'n me head throbbed 'n suddenly I was _so _hungry, completely overtaken by the desire to eat one o' their little white sheep. Not to cook it neither, just sink my teeth in 'n... you get the picture.

"I couldn't sleep that night. The pain in me neck was so sharp' 'n all I could tink of was the hot blood running through those sheeps' veins. Resistin' that was more 'n I'd ever dealt with in me life. God, the temptation. The longer I waited, the more desperate I got. I waited 'n waited, exhausted 'n sleepless, and I planned to get right outta there the minute the sun rose.

"Me family... well they wouldn't o' been happy I'd deserted, but maybe they'd understand. Granny B would, at least. I could depend on her fer that. I were always her favorite. I'd just wanted so badly to make 'em proud...

"But no sooner had I stepped one foot out the door in the mornin' did me exposed skin catch flame—and mind ya, this was an overcast spring in Ireland, so I got it mild. Put it out. Tried a couple more times. It took me a minute to put two 'n two together, that it was the sun that'd tried to do me in.

"So I headed back into the barn and waited fer night to fall again. Everytin' hurt, but finally I was able to sleep a bit. But when I woke up, I truly couldn't help meself any longer. I dug into the littlest of the lambs. Just sucked it dry. I figured they'd miss it least, the runt. Not that it did anyone any good.

"I can still hear it bleatin' in me head, y'know, desperate to cling to life, 'n the horrible ting was, I _liked_ hearin' it beg. And worse yet, I felt better than I ever had. The burns healed, me neck stopped hurtin' and I couldn't feel the bite marks when I pressed me fingers to me skin. I stopped feelin' restless. I felt powerful... And I wanted more.

"I killed every last wee sheep in the barn, drank 'em clean, 'n snuck out at dusk feelin' mighty disgusted wit' meself. Apparently, though, I'd made a bit too much noise, cos the farmer came out, found me covered in his animals' blood. Caught me with a shotgun blast right in the chest—right where the Saint got me, come to tink of it.

"Fer the second time in as many days, I t'ought that was it. Y'know, it hurt like all hell, but I somehow got right up and fuckin' ran. Stumbled into a pig enclosure on the way and fed again, and it didn't make sense, but the hole all but disappeared, pushing all the shot outta me. I was healed.

"But what I really didn't understand was that none of it ever made me feel _full. _I coulda always had more. And when I started passing _people_ by on the way home, the pull was somehow even greater.

"But no matter what, that was a line I wasn't willin' to cross. No matter what I felt, I wasn't gonna hurt innocent people. I can't tell ya how badly I wanted to, though.

"And by the time I made it home, watchin' me family continue on wit'out me from afar, gettin' on wit' it, bein' okay, in the end, I just t'ought... it's better they think I'm dead, y'know? Instead of seein' what I'd become. I turned my back on a friend in need. And I got what I deserved, y'know?

"So I skipped Dublin town, called meself O'Neill and tried to get on with me own life. Stuck to goin' out at night. Over time, the cravin's subsided a bit, and I was able to resist temptation, mostly. I'd lapse here or there, when I was upset. Kill a cow or a goat, leave the family some money if I had any on me, because I always felt so fuckin' guilty afterward.

"It went that way fer a couple years, but o' course, it wasn't long before someone recognized me. I convinced 'im I was someone else, fer me family's sake, but I couldn't stay in Ireland. It'd seemed so big to me, all me life, but it was never gonna be big enough to go unnoticed. Not wit'out hurtin' somebody. The next night I was on a ship headed fer Ellis Island. Steerage, o' course.

"Funny enough, I arrived on the 4th o' July. America was this infinite promise, and I was there. It was exactly the fresh start I needed. Met good people. Fell in love a couple times—or I t'ought I did. And the size o' the place. You could anonymously move about fer an eternity.

"But it gets to ya, y'know? Missin' yer family. Not being able to stare up at the blue sky on a sunshiny day, feel its warm glow on yer skin. Not knowing what the fuck's happened to ya. 'N then the time passes on, and so do the people ya care about, while ya don't age a fuckin' day.

"First time it happened I was in New York City, 1922. I spent most o' me time there in the ol' days, got comfortable. I had a mate, good lad. Mouthy, though. Got pissed, slagged off a couple fellers, got in a fist fight. He was knocked out cold, split his head on the sidewalk. He never woke up from that, and the fact I wasn't there to stop it—I just lost it, y'know? These feelin's I'd put away came rushin' back and those men didn't stand a bleedin' chance.

"The first, well he was the first man I killed. I promised meself I'd never stoop so low, but there was no use. Feeding on him was this rush I'd never felt. His body wasn't ever found, far as I know.

"His pal, though, well I got caught. It was random chance, a cop patrollin' an alley. Found me with my teeth in his fuckin' neck. He survived, I got charged with attempted murder. They weren't sure what else to call it.

"That got me put me away fer a bit. Honestly, I was t'ankful. Forced me to tink about how I'd got there. What I'd become. I swore it wouldn't happen again but... you know as well as me that didn't stick.

"I have a tendency to slip up when I'm hurt. 'N I can be sensitive, y'know? I'm also pretty damn good at justifyin' meself after the fact. I promised meself I'd stay away from people, not get close so they wouldn't get hurt. So I wouldn't get hurt. But I've never been strong enough to be alone. I'm not secure in me head. I've always needed people, even if I couldn't get 'em to stay.

"And then I discovered drugs. The more of 'em I took, the less I had to deal with meself. And knowin' I couldn't O.D.—'n it's not like I didn't _try_—well there are years of me life that are just one big blur. I reasoned, well, at least I wasn't killin' anybody. But I was in such a stupor, who's to even say what I was or wasn't doin'?

"I didn't even understand what I was 'till that first _Dracula _hit the cinemas. Some o' the details were all wrong, but I had _answers_ for the first time. And look, it was pretty much decided I was a monster.

"So, why am I hesitant about biting _Denis_?" he finally posed. "Because I've spent more'n a century runnin' from meself, and it's only been the last six weeks I haven't spent half me nights wishin' I'd just drowned in that swamp. Because I was the most earnest, innocent kid there ever could be, and it still turned me into a cold-blooded killer. 'N I don't _know_ my son. Not really. How can I trust him?"

I didn't have the answer. I didn't have much of anything for him. I was holding it in as he spoke, but suddenly I was a blubbering mess, burying my head into his shoulder as I wrapped my arms around him. He'd experienced enough pain for multiple lifetimes. I just wanted to make it all go away, and knowing I'd been able to ease it in the teeniest way made me sob even harder.

"Hey, now," he comforted as he returned the embrace. "I hope yer not cryin' cos ya made the mistake o' marryin' me."

I knew it was a joke, but in my state it didn't help any.

"Of course not, Cass," I insisted between gasps. "That was the best thing I ever did. Please don't kid about that."

"Alright, now," he answered, still serious-faced. "I promise I won't."

"It's just a lot," I explained. "Knowing all that doesn't change my feelings for you at all. If anything, I feel closer to you than ever. I just gotta... wrap my head around everything you've been through. You're so strong, do you know that?"

He gave me a look that said that what he'd told me was only the tip of the iceberg. One of these days, we could unravel _all_ of that history. Until then, we had the dilemma in front of us to sort out.

"I'm just happy I make you happy," I said with a little sniffle, and the corners of his mouth raised into a smile.

"You make me _so_ happy, Adelaide," he murmured. "When I'm wit' ya, just... that urge boilin' in me blood almost goes quiet. Like I can just live me life. It's not fleetin' like it's been wit' anyone else."

"Almost?" I questioned.

He looked like he regretted saying it. Then there was this glint in his striking hazel eyes, and he changed the subject.

"But what would you do?" he asked. "If you were in me situation. Would ya make him like me?"

"Given everything you just told me," I said truthfully, "I would be hesitant. But I don't know well enough to say. I can't make that decision for you."

He nodded, considering that carefully.

"And tell me," he added, "honestly, do you ever tink ya could be happy bein' like me?"

His whole being tensed in anticipation of the response.

_Wow_. We were finally going to have this conversation. I suppose I felt as ready for it as I'd ever be.

"I know I'll be happy," I said, confidently. In my heart, I knew this wasn't an "if," but a "when." I watched his face contort into a teary-eyed smile. "What, did you think I was just gonna let you watch me shrivel up and die while you stay young and perfect forever?"

"I've been so afraid to ask, Ada." He exhaled loudly, tears falling. "I'm... God I'm relieved. But, listen. No rush, alright? I'd want ya to do all the tings ya wanna do, first. If it takes 30 years, that's okay. I wanna give ya time to tink it over, n' I know you'll be just as beautiful wit' a few laugh lines 'n a head o' silver hair as ya are today."

"I won't need that long," I smiled through my own tears. "I just... When the time is right, I think we'll both know. I know we will."

He nodded. I knew he believed that as strongly as I did.

"And I couldn't tink of a better, stronger person," he said. "Yer just _good_. Ya won't give in to it. And I know we'll be okay."

"Thank you for believing in me Cass," I told him.

"And finally I'll be able to stop worryin' about ya gettin' hurt," he laughed with relief.

"It'll be a beautiful day," I said.

He sighed deep, a big burden lifted from his chest. But he wasn't out of the woods yet.

"Don't exactly help wit' the _Denis_ situation, though," he continued. "Am I just bein' selfish? I don't wanna turn him cos I don't wanna be responsible fer 'im for the rest o' me life?"

"Or maybe the selfish thing would be to bite him," I countered. "To buy yourself more time with him. To try to reverse everything that's happened, regardless of who he might be. Either way, I think it's way too big of a decision to make in a day.There's a lot to consider. You need to take your time."

"Yer right," he said, reclining slightly. "Tanks fer that. Jaysis, tanks fer everytin'. Listenin'. Not judgin'. Talkin' this t'rough."

"Always," I told him, leaning in closer to him as he laid back down. "I'm just glad you have someone to talk about it with. In the meantime, maybe we can try make it up to him."

"And how do you suggest doin' that?" he asked.

"Well, we can begin with replacing the TV the Saint smashed," I recommended.

"That's a start..." Cass replied, gears turning in his head as there was a light knock on the bedroom door.

"Come in," Cassidy shouted at the door, and then Jesse opened it slowly, peeking his head in. He still seemed off, somehow, all of his usual swagger drained by the taxing day.

"Hey," he spoke. "Uh, I didn't thank you both, earlier. For keepin' Tulip safe. So thanks. And I'm glad both of you are okay, too."

It was an unexpected moment of earnestness from him, and I appreciated it.

"That means a lot, Jess," I answered. "Thank _you_ for getting that soul back to us, and just in the nick of time. Where the hell do you get something like that anyway?"

"It's... a long story," he said, the dead look in his eyes telling us both he had no desire to tell it. "Anyway, I have somethin' for you."

He approached my side of the bed and handed me a cheap phone, small and black.

"Cass told me your phone broke," he said simply. "You can have this one."

It must have been the burner he'd used for the improvised explosive Tulip helped him with earlier. Made sense that he didn't need it anymore.

"Thank you," I nodded as I accepted it.

"That's very t'oughtful of ya, Padre," Cass agreed. "Tanks."

Jesse just nodded and let himself out, closing the door behind him.

"You know, I think that's the nicest thing he's done for me?" I asked Cass.

"I keep tellin' ya, he's not as bad as ya make 'im out to be," Cass insisted.

"You just might be right about that," I told him.

"Anyhow," Cass said, suddenly sitting up in bed. "I've an idea. Are ya up fer a little stroll?"

* * *

It was a humid night, but cool enough for neither of us to mind much. Cass was still hurting, but he tried to conceal it as we walked arm in arm. He seemed to be moving purposefully, like he had a specific destination in mind.

Meanwhile, I swatted with my free hand at the mosquitos that seemed to be particularly attracted to my exposed arms.

"Looks like we can't get enough o' ya," Cass remarked.

"Who's 'we'?" I asked.

"Us bloodsuckers," he joked, and despite myself, my sharp laugh caught in my nose, coming out as a snort. Cassidy grinned wildly, like I'd just done something quite charming. Somehow, I didn't feel embarrassed.

Funnily enough, he was right. All my life, fleas and mosquitoes had flocked to me. I'd wake up covered in a dozen itchy bites, with no one else around me getting even one. I'd always considered it a curse, but if my extra-tasty blood had played even the smallest part in bringing Cass and me together, it had all been worth it.

We continued walking, and Cass urged me to go on the Circuit Works website to do a little shopping. We picked out a little flat screen TV for Denis—not huge, but a giant upgrade from the 40-year-old hunk of junk we were replacing. He'd need an antenna, too. Cass tried to persuade me to add a PlayStation 3 bundle with _Rock Band_ and the drum kit—it was on sale, after all—but I couldn't see Denis playing that in a million years. Eventually, he conceded, and he settled on getting him a Wii and a combo DVD and Blu-ray player instead, which wound up being cheaper. We opted for overnight delivery, and to hopefully have it all set up for him by the time we picked Denis up in the morning.

It was only a couple more blocks before we got to our destination. To my surprise, it was an animal shelter. Even more, it was open well past 8 p.m.

The clerk who greeted us at the front of the shelter wore grey scrubs. She had a kind, round face, making me instantly feel welcome. We entered to find rows and rows of big chain-linked cells running from floor to ceiling, most of them housing either one large dog or two little ones.

Often, these places had a quiet air of desperation about them that I would have liked to avoid, but this one didn't. The dogs were curious and happy, a few of them leaping up and putting their front paws on the doors of the cages as they observed us, wagging their tails.

Another employee with very pale skin and dyed black hair was working diligently in three back. She also donned scrubs and a name tag telling us her name was Evie, and looked slightly tired but glad to be there nonetheless as she acknowledged us. She soon got back to entering each cell to refill water bowls, giving each animal attention and a little pat behind the ears as she did.

"So which one o' these lovely fellers do ya tink _Denis_ will love most?" Cassidy asked.

I smiled. So that was what this was all about.

"You think he'd ready for that added responsibility?" I asked.

"If he's not, we'll help," he answered. "I just tink the companionship will be good fer 'im. And like he said, he's always wanted a dog."

That _was_ true. My first instinct was too read the little laminated readouts for the dogs, and to see if any of them were in danger of being put down soon. Cass noticed me trailing a finger down their signs.

"It's a no-kill shelter, if that's what yer wonderin'," he told me. That immediately put me at ease. No doubt, the place was full of amazing dogs, but it was likely most of these big, rowdy pups would be too much to handle for an old man with a weakening heart and lungs.

And as I walked down the row, one sweet little thing caught my eye. It was one of the smallest at the shelter—probably some kind of Chihuahua mix, with slightly shaggy golden-brown fur covering most of its body, and a chocolate-colored snout framed by bat-like ears. It was alone, and looked bright, but not nervous, and less rambunctious than most of the others. I thought its size and temperament seemed just right, and they were paired with the sweetest little face.

I gazed at its chart. _His_ chart. Banjo was also the perfect name for him. Plus, he was already neutered, and up to date on all his shots. I tried not to get my hopes up too high, but everything was turning out in our favor.

I bent down next to his cell and put my hand up against the gate, and he stepped over and curiously—and very gently—sniffed my hand. Once he got a sense of me, he rubbed the top of his head against the chain links, and I stuck a couple of fingers through to give him a tiny scratch atop the head as he closed his eyes contentedly.

"Banjo likes you," Evie said with a little smile. "I can get his gate open, so you can get to know him better?"

"We'd love that," Cass told her, and I got up and backed away for her to unlock the cage. Once it was open, Banjo padded toward me on his little feet. He had an adorably dainty gait, and I was totally soldas I got on my knees next to him and he hopped right into my lap.

"That's a really good sign," Evie said. "Banjo can be kinda... reluctant around people. You should know he has a tendency to get spooked. I think he's got a sixth sense about people."

As Cass got down next to Banjo with me, the dog gladly accepted more pets as Cass ran his fingers through his soft fur.

"You pass," I joked to Cass, causing him to flash a brilliant smile. "But what if _Denis_ freaks him out?"

"It'll be alright," he reasoned. "They'll warm to each other soon enough. And you'll be there to calm 'im if there's any trouble."

That was good enough for me. How could he not fall in love with this precious little character? Cass agreed, and we couldn't wait to take him home.

At the desk, I only had to show them my driver's license and write an adoption fee check for $25 and he was officially ours. They gave me copies of the records saying he was fixed and vaxxed, and we bought him a blue leash and collar, a little bag of food that wouldn't be too heavy to heave home, and a pocket-sized sack of small, bone-shaped treats, and then we were on our way.

The entire walk back felt like a dream. A fog had fallen over the city, but that suited us just fine, and its bright lights kept the path home lit as the latest addition to our little family led the way, tongue hanging happily all the while. I couldn't comprehend that just three hours earlier, neither of us knew whether we were going to survive the day.

But strangely enough, when Banjo got to the foot of the stairs leading up to the apartment, his nervousness began to show. He yelped quietly upward a couple of times before Cass scooped him up in his arms and rocked him comfortingly. That seemed to do the trick, and he didn't resist as we made it back up into Denis's place.

Once we were inside, I could finally put down the slightly heavy bag of dog food. Tulip was in the kitchen drinking a beer and eating maraschino cherries straight out of the jar, and she blinked a few times when she saw the dog, as if ensuring she wasn't seeing things.

"Cute dog," she commented. "Why... why is there a dog?"

"He's a gift for _Denis_," Cass told her. "He's gonna love him."

"Cool," she answered, her mind seemingly elsewhere as she twirled a cherry stem between her fingers. Meanwhile, Banjo yawned wide, baring all of his tiny teeth.

"We should get this little guy to bed," Cass insisted, and I agreed.

We both washed our hands, and I filled a shallow bowl with some water and put it in the corner of our room as Banjo used a box to scale our bed, promptly falling asleep at the foot of it. We turned out all the lights besides one lamp at the corner of the room.

It was a little past nine, and Cass and I got changed into pajamas before we got cozy under the covers, making sure not to jostle the dog too much. It wasn't too long after that when Cass leaned over, cupping my face between his hands and kissing me deeply and sensually, making a tingly sensation reverberate between my temples. But as he leaned to press against me, he flinched slightly, his breath catching.

"You're still hurt," I whispered. "Don't push yourself." Then, under the covers, I ran my hand over his boxer briefs, where he was already half-hard. He let out a tiny pleasured groan.

"Should I get on top?" I asked as I teased his cock through his shorts.

"No, uh..." he shook his head. "Lay here."

He outstretched his right arm, and I nestled myself in the crook of it before he wrapped the arm around me and started gently touching my tummy through the fabric of my top.

"Is it okay if I make you cum with me fingers?" he asked in a raised whisper and I promised him it was. "I wanna touch ya under the covers... Don't wanna give the dog a show if we do wake 'im."

And he slid his hand down into my pants, and then my underwear, and found my juicy clit with the pad of his middle finger. His movement there was so minute, and so gentle, and his touch was the perfect match for my sensitive spot. The pleasure radiated out from between my legs as I tightened, letting it all wash over me.

"Fuck, you're good at that Cass," I squeaked out under my heavy breath. "Oh _God_, I love the way you touch me."

"Mhmmm," he hummed as he continued. It was the consistency of it that drove me wild, those little counter-clockwise motions that wound me up and up and up until the sensation was too great, and it burst forth, that unparalleled pleasure sending a shockwave that coursed through my entire being.

As I called out his name in a delirious moan, he continued to push me all the way to the very peak of my lofty climax. And just when I was coming down, when I became too tender to the touch, he ceased his soft contact, keeping his hand in my panties while allowing me to rest.

He kissed me on my temple as I panted, sweaty and satisfied—but absolutely up for more.

"How would ya like another?" he tempted me with a mischievous grin.

"You can do whatever you want with me," I answered. "But only if I can return the favor."

He gave me a warm nod as the finger returned to my clit for a moment before he reached down even deeper, sliding that skilled finger down my wet slit and curling it up inside me. I moaned loudly this time, struggling to keep it down as he worked me inside with his finger while he massaged me externally with his sturdy palm. It wouldn't be long until he made me cum again.

I got so wrapped up in the pleasure of it that I nearly forgot to hold up my end of the deal. Using my left hand, I found his boxer briefs under the covers and slid them down just enough to unfurl his big, rigid cock.

I took his strong shaft in hand, running up and down its length slowly at first as he continued to pleasure me. Soon, though, I began focusing on rapidly rubbing along the last lovely inches of his cock, and though I found it slightly awkward at first with my left hand, I soon found my rhythm, and when he began to exhale his own groans of delight, I knew I was on the right track.

Feeling him like that under the covers and imagining all of him in my mind's eye was too much, and in tandem with the momentum building physically inside me, I came again, my orgasm a blend of bliss from so many sources at once. I rode that one out, tensing tightly around him as I cried out, before I took his hand away.

"Alright," I said, my voice dreamy. "Now it's your turn."

I leaned toward him and swapped hands, now feeling in control with my right hand caressing him just the way he loved it.

"Oh, Jaysis, Ada," he yelped. "Just like that. _Just_ like that."

And I obeyed, giving him exactly what he needed. One more minute of that and he told me he was going to cum. I ducked my head under the sheets and never let up the sweet, steady motions, placing my lips around his pulsing head at the critical moment, his hot ejaculate shooting in bursts into my mouth as he let out his lovely growls.

I swallowed all of it up before I resurfaced from beneath the covers, Cassidy looking wonderfully relaxed, and blissful, and best of all, fully content.

"Is this a weird time to tell ya I'm so in love wit' you?" he asked.

"It's never a weird time," I assured him, coming up for a long and languid kiss. "I feel exactly the same about you."

"And we make a pretty incredible pair," he added with a smirk. "Bot' got off, 'n we didn't even bother the dog."

Indeed, Banjo was still dreaming peacefully at the foot of the bed.

After a truly wild day, it seemed things were finally back on track. Cass and I spent the next couple hours on his French app, brushing up on our language comprehension, before we both started to doze off, dreaming sweet dreams about the future before us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had some fun blending some comic and TV history for Cass's backstory here, so I hope you all like it, too. For one, I love that the fake name Cass gives is "O'Neill," given Joe Gilgun's character's name in _Brassic._ Fun coincidence (probably). I'm also moving around a lot of the timeline for... Reasons.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and being invested in this story to this point. I appreciate it so much, and hope you're loving it. Please feel free to leave a comment about what you're enjoying so far. I hope you like the next one just as much!


	36. Doberge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cass and Ada try to make things up to Denis, and the gang takes a neighbor up on a generous offer.

I was dreaming peacefully about the sensation of moving through cool, gentle clouds when the ungodly, screeching sound of a buzzer rang through the apartment.

"Shite," Cassidy muttered as he drearily climbed out of bed. He noticed me shifting under the covers and immediately looked guilty. "Sorry, love. I'm so sorry. I'll get it."

I was too tired to even understand what was happening. He gave me a kiss on the forehead and threw on some sweatpants before he rushed out the door. I closed my eyes again, and Banjo crawled up higher on the bed, resting on the sheets to stretch across my legs. His company was very welcome after the rude awakening.

A couple minutes later, Cass had returned to the living room, speaking in a hushed voice to someone. He seemed to, very apologetically, be giving directions.

By then, I'd woken adequately, and my curiosity was getting the better of me. I stretched, and carefully placed my hands under Banjo to scoop him up in my arms. He didn't resist in the slightest as I rose, and Icarried him over to the door, cracking it open to peek at what Cass was up to.

In the next room, Cass was lifting his shirt and proudly flaunting the deep gunshot scar in his chest to a delivery man in a brown polo and shorts.

"I'd help, mate," he was saying, pointing excitedly at the mark, "but I was actually shot pretty recently 'n I tink I should give it a rest."

The delivery guy just gave him a little nod in response. It probably wasn't close to the weirdest thing he'd experienced on the job in New Orleans. Likely, he just wanted to get the stuff delivered and be off to his next destination.

It took a moment, but when all the boxes were piled up together in a corner of the living room, Cass thanked him profusely, gave him some cash for a tip, and saw the man back through the kitchen area and out the front door, wheeling out the little dolly that probably hadn't helped him much up the big staircase. He popped the fridge open to grab a fresh, cold bag of blood before returning.

"Delivery came bright and early, huh?" I asked Cass as he stepped back into the living room. He smiled softly when he saw me.

"Too early," he answered as he took a sip. "Sorry again. I just kinda... forgot."

"It's alright," I told him, glancing up at the clock. It was 9, which was only too early because of how nocturnal we'd become lately. "At least we'll be able to get _Denis_'s new gear all set up for his big return."

That prompted Cass to look down at the slim box with the TV in it, turning it to read the back helplessly.

"You gonna need some help with that?" I teased him, and he looked slightly embarrassed.

"Ya good wit' this stuff?" he asked.

"I think I can figure out," I answered confidently.

With Cass's help, I hoisted away the old, broken TV set and we shoved it in the corner of the room, for the time being. Cass procured a little pocket knife perfect for slicing the tape holding all the boxes shut, and then I was well on my way to hooking everything up.

I was thankful this new TV was light and easy to move around. Cass watched me like I was some kind of wizard as I connected the HDMI cord from the DVD/Blu-ray player and the red, yellow and white composite cables from the Wii to the television. In went the connector for the antenna, and everything got plugged into a power strip, and Denis's new entertainment center was primed and ready to go.

Even after I was done, it seemed Cass was going over the whole process in his head.

"You know," I told him, "most of the time, I forget you're a centenarian..."

"And then I don't know how to plug in a friggin' TV 'n I remind you I'm like a million years old?" he asked.

That might have struck a tiny nerve.

"But it's a good thing, Cass," I coaxed him. " Seriously. I appreciate your experience. All the history you've lived through. Maybe that's why you have such good taste. And you're surprisingly progressive for someone born like three weeks before the turn of the 20th century. You're definitely the coolest 119-year-old alive."

He smiled at that. Good save.

Then there was the sound of a door opening, and Tulip stepped out. She looked uneasy, and like she hadn't slept particularly well—if she had at all.

"Shit, did we wake ya?" Cass asked, apologetic.

"Nah," she shook her head, wiping at her sleepy eyes with a long sleeve. "I've been up a few hours. Heard you were both out here, figured I could use the company."

"Ah, well I was just about to go grab _Denis_..." Cass said.

"Well that's not a lot problem," she interrupted. "I can drive, if you need a ride?"

Actually, that was a really good idea. We'd just been planning to walk him home—it wasn't too far—but seeing as he'd just spent the night in the hospital, a drive home might be appreciated.

We took her up on the offer, and once Cass and I got changed out of our PJs, we were out of there in just a couple of minutes. Tulip seemed most rushed of all, on edge and eager to be anywhere but cramped up inside of the apartment for another moment.

I took the front seat and Cass, newly dressed in a thick collared shirt with brown horizontal stripes around the chest and sleeves, sat in the back with Banjo carefully held in his lap for the few blocks to the hospital.

Once Tulip had pulled her car into the drop-off/pick-up area, Cass offered to step inside on his own to fetch his son. He left the dog behind, telling him to behave himself, as he gave him a pet, exited the car and entered the automatic doors.

Now that Tulip and I were alone, I had the chance to ask her the questions that had been turning around in my head.

"Are you alright?" I asked her firmly, and she nodded. It wasn't convincing in the slightest. "You sure? Because you look exhausted."

"Just couldn't sleep, is all," she answered, averting her gaze. Somehow, I got the feeling she wanted me to pry the answers out of her.

"Something happened," I said. It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Well, not really _happened_ happened..."

"What is it?"

"I had a dream," Tulip finally blurted. "About the Saint of Killers. He came back, and he grabbed me again..." She clutched her hand around her neck where he'd grabbed her, a look of panic in her eyes. "This time, you weren't there to help. Cass couldn't do anything. And Jesse came back in time, but... like, the Saint took Jesse. Not his body, but he just... sucked the life outta him. Left him a shell. It just felt so real. And just when I couldn't take it anymore, I woke up."

I scooted closer to Tulip on the bench seat and put my arms around her. She grasped my arms hard, and she was trembling.

"I can see why you didn't want to get back to sleep," I whispered to her. "That sounds horrible."

"I know it was just a dream," she replied in a hushed voice, "but I get this spooky sense there's more to it. Somethin' doesn't feel right. Do you feel it?"

"I don't," I was honest with her. In fact, from my perspective, things were better than ever. But that wasn't fair of me. Not when the circumstances meant she had been in more real danger than either Cass or me. "But I believe you. What do you think it means?"

"I dunno," she shrugged. "Probably nothin'. I just don't know."

Whatever it was, I'd keep an eye out. I was going to tell her so, but then Cassidy was tugging open the passenger's side back door handle, and helping Denis out of a wheelchair and into the seat. Banjo eyed Denis cautiously as he backed away from him a couple steps. Once Cass had returned the wheelchair and come back to enter the back seat from Tulip's side, a fresh bag of prescription meds in his hand, Banjo sidled up to him.

As we greeted him, Denis wasn't exactly pleased. He was doing much better than yesterday, but looked annoyed, if anything, to have an entourage taking him home. He didn't speak, and looked at the tiny dog with a certain amount of skepticism.

"_C'est ton chien_," Cass insisted it was Denis's dog as he scratched his head. "Banjo. _Ton animal de compagnie_."

That actually made Denis smile, which was unlike him. Denis spread his arms, motioning with his hands for Banjo to come, but the dog didn't budge, sticking close to Cass.

Even so, he didn't resist when Denis scooted slightly closer and started giving him a rub under his chin. The dog didn't look particularly delighted by this, but he didn't hate it either. And when Cassidy delicately lifted the dog with his hands and placed him in Denis's lap, Banjo immediately hopped off, instead occupying the space between the two of them. But Denis didn't seem to care too much. Not when he was running his fingers through the fur of _his_ dog.

"_Merci, papa_," Denis said, genuinely thankful, and Cass beamed at him.

"Glad you're feeling better," Tulip chimed in. She felt like she had to say something—not that he understood a word of it.

And as we drove back to the apartment, I watched in the rear view mirror as Denis sat, enamored with his new puppy. Cassidy grinned to himself at this small joy he'd managed to bring his son, and at that, I caught myself smiling, too.

* * *

Once we were back home and settled in, Denis needed a demo of his new entertainment system. He wore glasses as he sat in his recliner, keen on learning it all. Meanwhile, Banjo stood near Cassidy's feet. Tulip and I sat on the couch as Cass handed Denis the remote for the TV. The two were almost equally clueless when it came to working the things.

"_Denis, jette un œil à ça_," Cass instructed him to check it all out, motioning to each piece of equipment, starting with his upgraded TV set. "_Télé_. DVD. Blu-ray. Nintendo Wii. _Et_ _Wii Sports, Denis_. _Voulez-vous jouer au tennis? Le _bowling_, Denis?"_

For now, Denis didn't seem all that interested in the different _Wii Sports_ options. He was flipping through the channels, eventually landing on an old _Mr. Magoo _cartoon—this time in English.

"_Aimes-tu?_" Cass asked Denis if he liked it all. "_Très bon, non?"_

Denis grunted his approval as he continued focusing on the cartoon. That was good enough for Cass, who turned his attention to a very distracted Tulip.

"You alright?" he asked her. I was glad he saw it, too.

Again, she simply nodded at him. I got it. She didn't trust Cass like I did, and probably didn't feel like sharing with him.

He didn't quite believe her, either, but seeing her expression, he thought it was wise to drop it. I moved in closer to her on the couch. I hoped that would remind her I was here for her.

It was tight, but Cass squeezed into the couch next to us, Banjo sitting happily at our heels, and we watched _Mr. Magoo _with Denis. Again, he _never_ laughed, which struck me as odd for someone who gravitated toward antique comedies.

I'd nearly forgotten about Jesse, who stepped out of the steamy bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist halfway through the episode.

"Good to see everyone's settled in," he said upon seeing us in a sarcastic, and nearly bitter, tone.

"Just spendin' some quality time wit' _Denis_," Cassidy said. "He deserves it, y'know, after yesterday 'n 'is night in hospital."

"Uh huh," Jesse responded. "So I take it you won't be joining me tonight."

"Well, that depends on your plans, Padre," he said.

"My plans," Jesse answered, raising his voice sightly, "are to find God, remember? 187 jazz clubs in New Orleans, I've already checked out 130 of 'em, no thanks to all of you."

"Well hey, now, it's not fully our fault we haven't been able to join ya, Jess," Cass attempted to cool him down. "There's been extenuatin' circumstances 'n the like. Ada had her business to settle, y'know, and then the ting wit' the Saint o' Killers. I got shot, if ya recall. 'N today we gotta help _Denis_ recuperate_. _We gotta sit this one out."

"Tulip?" Jesse asked, exasperated.

"Uh, yeah," she said without conviction. "I'll come."

Then Jesse stepped closer to her, looking down over her and viewing her closely.

"No you won't," he answered, softly, putting his hand to her face. "Look at you. You barely slept. You're totally out of it. Stay and get some sleep."

He was right. Maybe that's what prompted her to snap upward, standing to face him directly in a tense, defensive posture.

"Nuh uh," she insisted. "I am _not_ goin' to sleep."

He eyed her again, confused by the strong reaction.

"Then stay and _rest_," he urged.

I reached up to her with my hand and placed it on her arm. Her stance softened.

"I... fine," shesubmitted before sitting back down.

I mouthed, "Thanks Jesse," out of Tulip's view, and he gave me a small nod.

"It's fine," Jesse said aloud, turning toward his bedroom. "I've gotten this far doin' this on my own."

"Don't be like that, Jesse," Cass pleaded. "Look, if ya don't find 'im tonight, we'll join ya tomorrow. Promise. All four of us, like it was s'posed to be, alright?"

"All right, Cass," Jesse said with a sigh as he disappeared into the room.

I supposed I could understand his frustration. We had come here on a mission, after all, but since our first night in the city, only he'd been actively pursuing God. With the way he was going, it'd only be a couple more nights until he'd searched every jazz club in town.

But we really weren't responsible for everything that had gotten in the way. We were taking things as they came, and doing a reasonably great job at it, all things considered.

After that, it seemed like no time at all before Jesse was dressed and headed out the door.

"Hey, Jess?" Cassidy called out to him as he was leaving.

"Yeah?"

"Tomorrow night," he said. "I give ya my word."

"Right, Cass," Jesse said as he shut the door behind him. He didn't believe it, but we'd show him.

Next to me on the couch, Tulip was staring intently at the TV. It was the intense focus of someone with something to prove. Her eyes looked glazed over, with a red and watery sheen, and she struggled to keep them open.

"Hey," I whispered into Tulip's ear. "You should really lie down."

At that, she stood again, angrily, pointing at me as she shouted.

"I will _not_ go to sleep," she said, the frustration apparent in her face. "I cannot believe you're sidin' with Jesse on this..."

"I am not siding with _anybody_," I explained as calmly as I could, raising my hands as if in surrender. "And I'm not saying you have to sleep. But I do think you should relax. You're clearly on edge."

"Yeah," she answered. "Sorry, I... I want a beer. Do you want a beer?"

I shook my head as she went to the fridge and grabbed a cold bottle from the back, bringing it back to the couch as she popped off the cap and took a big gulp.

"Cass," I whispered to him, so that only he could hear, "we're gonna go lie down."

"That's a plan," he replied with a nod. "And I'll have a minute fer some father-son time. Go on."

While I imagined the bulk of that father-son time would be spent in silence staring at the TV, I still thought it could do them some good.

"Can we talk?" I turned back to Tulip. "In private?"

"Sure," Tulip said with a shrug, and I gestured toward her room.

She got up, beer in tow, and I followed her into the bedroom, closing the door behind me. I sat on the bed, way back so I was practically at its center.

"Sorry about earlier," I told her. "I didn't mean to gang up on you back there."

"Yeah, I know," she said, taking a seat beside me, and sidling close with her knees tucked up against her body, bottle still in her hand. "I realize you're just lookin' out. Even if it does get annoying sometimes."

She smiled slightly at that. She was probably right.

"Sorry," I apologized again with a grimace. "And look, I understand you don't want to sleep. I wouldn't either. But we can just chill. You enjoy your beer. I'll just... be here for emotional support."

We both knew she couldn't avoid going to sleep forever. Under other circumstances, maybe she could last a couple of days, but right now she was already fading fast, and she needed someone.

That's when she threw her arms around me, never letting go of the bottle, burying her head in my shoulder and holding me so tight and close I could feel the pulse of her rapid heartbeat and her fast, hot breaths against my neck. She was shaking ever so slightly, and her skin was balmy as I held her in return.

God, this was getting to her. Tulip could manage most things. But this? She was panicking, and it couldn't help that it was only dreams and gut feelings leaving her reeling this badly.

"Hey," I said to her gently, "I know you're dealing with a lot right now, but can you do something for me?"

She didn't answer, but I felt her nod into my shoulder.

"Take deep breaths, okay?" I urged her. "In through your nose—then hold for four seconds—out through your mouth—and hold for eight."

It was a little something Cass had taught me, and it'd worked wonders in my toughest moments. I hoped it could do the same for her.

And she did just what I asked. I continued to feel her breath as I repeated the words like a mantra. In through the nose. Four. Out through the mouth. Eight. She was going a little fast with the counts, but everything was probably sped up for her right now.

I just kept her going, breaths steady and deep, until I could feel her internal pace had relaxed. Her heart was still going a little fast, but it had slowed considerably since we started.

The distraction was doing her good, and that's when she let go, chugged the rest of her beer and placed it on the nightstand. Then she came right back and embraced me yet again. I didn't mind, if it helped, and now she was doing her deep breaths all on her own.

"You know I'm really glad you're here," she finally muttered over my shoulder. "I dunno if I could deal without you."

"You sell yourself short," I told her. "You've got this. And what about Jesse and Cass?"

She laughed a little at that, letting go again and reclining back on the bed.

"I love Jesse," she explained. "With all my heart. But when he gets an idea in his head, there's nothin' in the world that'll change his mind 'till he changes it himself. He's stubborn as hell. It's like you gotta wait for him to snap out of it. And Cass... Well, you two are just always on the same wavelength, _somehow._ Like you're speakin' the same made-up language that only you know. I'm sure he means well, but the two of us... we're on different pages."

I could see that, and realized I hadn't thought much about that before—what our friends might think of my relationship with Cass. If strangers ever stared, I'd only clutch onto him tighter. I was so proud of him, and still couldn't believe I was allowed to be the one on his arm. He was gorgeous and charming and affectionate, but most importantly a compassionate person who'd do anything for me. I'd seen the lengths he was willing to go. He had every piece of my heart.

But to those who _really_ knew us—and I couldn't say there was anyone alive who did and didn't currently live in this very apartment, we truly must have seemed an odd couple. Me, anxious and shy and all too obedient, shacking up with an impulsive, drug-abusing, extroverted outlaw vampire.

Maybe I'd come out of my shell since we'd gotten together. And he'd become a bit more responsible, too. Honestly, I couldn't imagine living any other way. To me, it made all the sense in the world.

"Hey," Tulip interrupted my train of thought. "Can you... and you can totally say no... but would you hold me?"

"Of course," I answered. "Whatever you need right now, you got me."

Then to my surprise, Tulip laid all the way down, resting atop the covers, facing away from me with her head on her pillow. I laid beside her, sharing the pillow, and placed an arm around her small, warm body. She held my arm close to her chest with both hands.

"How did you two find each other, anyway?" she asked. Cass must have still been on her mind.

"At the church, actually," I answered.

"You? At church?"

"Yeah, I know," I laughed. "Actually, what were _any _of us going at that church?"

"I'd go to see Jesse," Tulip said.

"That's how Cass wound up there, too," I told her. "They met and Cass wound up living in the attic. He'd come down to watch sometimes when he was bored."

"And what about you?" she asked.

"Come to think of it, Jesse brought me there, too."

"And how's that?"

"Well, my uh... the lady I thought was my mama, she was actually trying to set me up with Jesse."

Tulip broke into giggles at that.

"You? And _Jesse_? That's... That's somethin' else."

"Yeah. That woman was troubled to say the least."

"Like, huh," she yawned. "It's funny, really. Jesse's never mentioned it."

"I honestly don't think he remembers he even met me," I explained. "There was just nothing between us at all. Still isn't, I'd say. And then I was trying to get out of there and I stumbled into Cass. I wasn't even sure about him, at first. We exchanged a few words, and he was really charming but I didn't think too much of it at the time. And then I had a sexy dream about him. I was back the next day looking for him, and there he was, looking for me. A week later, we were making love in the bed of Jesse's truck under the stars. It was all so sudden, but I got swept up in it. There wasn't time to question it too much. It just _happened_ and nothing had ever felt more right..."

I realized I'd been rambling about myself and my relationship for a _long_ time.

"How about you and Jess?" I asked. "How did you meet?"

But I didn't get a response. Tulip's breathing was deep and steady. She must have fallen asleep. I understood that was the last thing she'd wanted—but maybe this was what she needed.

I gave her a small shake to see if that would wake her. It didn't, and I decided to let her rest. If she gave me the slightest sign off fitful sleep, I'd wake her immediately. Until then, I'd hold her close and do what I could to keep her feeling safe.

I, too, decided to close my eyes, and before I knew it, I'd also drifted off into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

When Tulip eventually stirred, she woke me as well.

"Shit," she mumbled as she rose, blinking awake.

"Are you okay?" I asked as I also sat up.

"Yeah," she answered. "I just... I didn't _mean_ to fall asleep."

"No nightmares, though?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"It was just... Quiet. Like, empty sleep. Does that make sense?"

"It does," I reassured her. "I'm glad you got some rest."

Indeed, she seemed like a new person. However long it'd been, it had done her a world of good.

We soon returned to the living room to find that Cass and Denis had gotten a game of _Wii Sports_ bowling going. During Denis's turn, he simply swung his wrist from his recliner. On the screen, a white-haired Mii sent the ball down the alley, knocking down a few digital pins during the first throw, but missing any spares with the second.

Cass, on the other hand, stood proudly, positioning himself like he was at a real bowling alley, and taking a big step to throw the ball with seemingly perfect form, one foot of the ground with Banjo standing well clear of him on the rug.

The ball on the screen flew from Cassidy's smirking avatar's hand at high speeds into the gutter. During his next throw, he _barely _clipped the left two pins. After wobbling for a long while, they both fell.

Denis's more relaxed approach appeared to be working, because score-wise, he was absolutely wiping the floor with his father—even if both scores were pathetically low.

"You're up!" Cassidy said excitedly as we made our way back into the living room, pointing at the screen with his Wii remote. "Look, we're bowlin'."

"Looks like fun," Tulip mused, maybe sarcastically, as they continued.

"Ya bot' look well," Cass continued before winking at me. "Seems those four hours did ya good."

Had we really been asleep that long? The day was completely getting away from me.

"Shoot, I gotta go shopping, then," I told Cass. "We're supposed to start cooking healthy for Denis and we've only got blood and beer in the fridge..."

"Or..." Tulip interrupted, "instead of grocery shoppin', we could call up Mrs. Barbaret and have her whip up somethin' real good for the four of us?"

At that, Banjo padded over to her, brushing his head against the bottoms of her legs.

"All _five_ of us," she corrected.

That sounded wonderful to me—I wasn't really feeling up to cooking for everyone, especially not something healthy—and the others were up for it, too. It'd definitely be a nice change of pace after the previous couple of days' diet of junk food and sweets.

A moment later, Tulip gave Mrs. Barbaret a call

and clarified the food would be nutritious, that dogs were okay and that she absolutely did _not_ speak French as Cass shouted questions at her from across the room), and like that we had plans for dinner at 6.

* * *

"So what I'm sayin' is, we know people's _names, _right, but we don't really _tink_ about the names. Listen, take Sylvester Stallone. The man's Rocky. Rambo. The cliffhanger 'n that. But have ya ever stopped to tink, bloody hell, this guy's really gone 'round 'is whole life called 'Sylvester' 'n _no_ one's even noticed? Sylvester? How he gets away wit' it, I don't know."

Mrs. Barbaret nodded politely as Cass continued excitedly, waving around the well-spiced shrimp at the end of his fork.

For dinner, she'd prepared us a succulent seafood gumbo like I couldn't believe. It was packed with shrimp, oysters, fish and crab meat, with the rich flavor of onions, celery, bell peppers and punchy Cajun spice shining through in every bite. It filled the whole small but well-loved home with the most delicious scent.

I was so busy scooping up big bites of the stuff, served over steaming white rice, and sopping up the delicious sauce with hunks of sweet, crumbly cornbread that I was barely talking. To drink, we were offered the choice between white wine and glorious homemade lemonade. Now this was the local New Orleans experience I'd been after.

Tulip sat between Mrs. Barbaret and me, occasionally stroking my hand tenderly, and whispering little jokes in my ear before giggling to herself. She seemed to be in high spirits, and it didn't look like a put on for the sake of Mrs. Barbaret.

Across from us sat Cass and Denis. I could tell Mrs. Barbaret was a bit wary of Cass, at first, but he had a way with people, and he'd won her over with his charismatic storytelling before long.

Denis was also preoccupied with the meal, cooked specifically without the traditional sausage to be a bit more heart-healthy for him. He seemed to be in heaven, especially as he ate serving after serving of peppery spiced okra. I wondered when when he'd last eaten a home-cooked meal.

In the corner of the room, Banjo, quietly and contently, nibbled at some unseasoned chicken and rice Mrs. Barbaret has prepared for him. She was quite the host.

"You make a point, Mr. Cassidy," she said with a little chuckle after thinking it over a moment. "Like The Rock. You know what his family probably calls him?"

"My God. Dwayne!" Cass answered enthusiastically.

That got Mrs. Barbaret practically cackling, and soon Tulip and I were laughing right alongside them. It wasn't _that_ funny, but God, we laughed. Even Denis cracked a smile, not understanding a word of it. And I wouldn't have had it any other way.

We continued to eat, and grin along, bellies and hearts quite full.

"I haven't had a laugh like this since my Marvin passed," Mrs. Barbaret said with a sad gentleness. "And it's been lonely, since the kids left the nest. Thanks for lettin' me feed y'all."

"We should be the ones thankin' you, Mrs. Barbaret," Tulip said. "You invited us into your home, cooked us this great meal. Made us feel like one big happy family."

Tulip turned to me, then, and flashed her brilliant smile before leaning in and pressing her mouth to mine. She tasted of wine, and chilis, and the fruits of the sea, and I happily kissed her back. She was so beautiful today, with all the things troubling her feeling so, so far away. I wished she could always be this free.

"So, Mr. Cassidy," Mrs. Barbaret asked next, clasping her hands in front of her on the table. "How do you know our girls?"

"We all met in Texas," he explained. We'd rehearsed his response, and I trusted him to stick to the script. "In church, actually. We're all good friends wit' the same preacher. It was only a matter o' time before we all became very close."

"That's so nice. And your friend?" she was referring to Denis.

"Oh, _Denis_ is my great-uncle," he lied. "He's from the Quarter, born 'n bred. Doesn't speak a word o' English, but I can assure ya he's just as grateful to be here as the rest of us."

"Oh, a local boy," she smiled. "Then I think he's gonna like what's next."

She excused herself from the table to head into the kitchen for a moment, and returned with the most beautiful looking cake. It was perfectly round with a stunning mirror finish—a smooth chocolate brown glaze on one half, and a vibrant yellow shine on the other half.

Mrs. Barbaret took a long, sharp knife and cut a sizeable triangular slice from the yellow section, revealing half a dozen thin layers of sponge cake, layered with yellow cream. She placed it on a plate, and handed the first slice directly to Tulip.

"Y'all like lemon or chocolate?" Mrs. Barbaret asked the rest of us with a smile.

"I'd love to try both, if that's not too much trouble, Mrs. Barbaret," I told her.

"Not a problem at all, missy. And you?" she asked Cassidy.

"I'll have the same," he answered. It was _chocolat_ for Denis, and then Mrs. Barbaret cut Cass and me both perfect slices from opposite sides of the cake where the two colors met. They were half chocolate and half lemon, the delicate layers revealing that the fillings were also flawlessly split in the middle.

It was so tempting on the plate that it was a shame cutting through the frosting with my fork. I started with a bite of the lemon side, and it sliced through like butter. It was just as delicious as it had looked. The cake was moist and springy, and perfectly balanced with the lemon curd custard sandwiched between the layers. It was no wonder that this was Tulip's favorite.

The chocolate half was just as tender and mouth-watering with its fudgy, rich flavor. I tried to savor each bite, knowing if I wasn't careful I might try to scarf down the whole cake. Across the table, Denis also ate his meager slice up happily—and Cass had already consumed his entire serving. It was a huge hit, and I was just about ready for Mrs. Barbaret to adopt me.

As the night continued, we all complimented the dinner and this incredible dessert again and again. It really seemed it had been some time since Mrs. Barbaret had the chance to entertain, and she was eating up every minute of it. I hoped dearly that this wouldn't be a one-time time thing.

Even long after the plates were licked clean, we sat around the table, the conversation flowing effortlessly. It felt so light and easy, and anytime it got too quiet for too long, Cass knew precisely how to fill the silence.

"Mrs. Barbaret..." Cass started. As he felt the night was coming to a close, he had one last story on his heart that _had_ to be told. "Are you familiar with the _Star Wars _prequels?_"_

"I can't say I am," she answered, as Tulip gave him a look of disbelief.

"Well then, listen, this is gonna take some explainin' then," Cass said. "But before I get there, I'm just gonna say that I have _definitive_ proof that Padmé Amidala 'n Obi-Wan Kenobi were lovers who were very much devoted to each other, alright? And understandin' that makes these films less of a steamin' pile of shite. Alright..."

It wasn't at all how I saw my night going, but honestly, I couldn't have imagined anything better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this little slice of life chapter! In anticipation of some heavy and violent stuff in the upcoming episodes, I'm going to keep things semi-light for a little bit. Let's see if that sticks...
> 
> As always, please leave a comment if you enjoyed, and thank you so much for reading!


	37. Hurt Locker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Jesse investigates every last jazz club in New Orleans in search of God, the gang seeks diversion at an establishment of a different sort.

It had been a drizzly night as Cass, Tulip, Denis and I joined Jesse in his search for God. Banjo also tagged along, secretly, in a messenger bag slung around Cass's shoulder. We'd head into one club, and it'd be sprinkling, and when we'd come back out, the dark skies would be dry again.

I had to admit that we were scraping the bottom of the barrel at this point. I remembered the bright, bombastic jazz that had played in the first club we'd visited. Compared to that, the places we stumbled into tonight were filled with amateurs. I didn't _know_ God, and I wasn't even much of a jazz fan, but I doubted he'd settle for this mediocrity.

I wasn't so sure about Jesse's methods, either. We watched as he'd eye the audience in front of the band at each club. When he was unsatisfied there, he'd stomp up to the bar and demand to know if the bartenders had seen God. When they were cagey or uncooperative, he'd use Genesis, and invariably get the same answer as the first time around. They all thought he'd lost it. But Jesse had a plan, and he was sticking to it. Tonight, we were there to support him.

After this last club, the streets were slick with fresh rain, and the collapsed bodies of drunken NoLa partiers littered the sidewalks. We only had one more jazz club to try—a place called Scat's. Appropriately, a ragged man outside was screaming about the impending end of the world.

The second we stepped inside, I knew this wasn't going to be the place. The stuffy, smoke-filled atmosphere was terrible, and the too-loud music was even worse. Jesse went through the motions to check the club off his list, but I'm sure he knew as well as I did that we were shit out of luck.

Once Jesse had finished there, we all headed back out the building's brick-lined front. Jesse looked slightly defeated as he lit a cigarette and the doomsdayer continued to shout.

"It's all about to be over. Over! Over!" he exclaimed. "Look for the signs, you sorry sonsabitches. 'Cause shit is about to get real!"

It was best we just ignore that. Cass, it seemed, was also pretty disappointed we hadn't found anything.

"No God," he said. "No men in white suits. No not'in'."

"Maybe I was wrong about this place," Jesse admitted. "Maybe it was a bad idea."

"No," Cass insisted. "New Orleans is never a bad idea, alright? Look, there's more to the city than bloody jazz 'n almost getting killed. I tink we should just take a break, have some fun, yeah? I know _Denis_ knows what I'm talking about. _Tu veux t'amuser, Denis_?"

Denis let out a rough cough, but nodded, pulling an inhaler out of his pocket and huffing it deeply.

"What do you think?" Jesse turned to Tulip and me.

"Me?" Tulip asked, sounding quite out of it. "I... I'm up for whatever."

"Same here," I smiled at Cassidy.

"I know just the place," he grinned, pointing at us both with finger guns. What I'd just volunteered for, I had _no_ idea.

* * *

Cassidy had excitedly informed us all about the Hurt Locker before, but I'm not sure any of us believed it was a real thing until we saw it with our own eyes.

The second we walked in, standing behind the massive crowd, we were met with the echoing bang of a gun and a tortured man's screams. The fellow writhed on the ground in pain as another man sporting a long, bushy beard and a baseball cap stood, still pointing the shiny, smoking handgun at him. Denis had taken a seat in the back to catch his breath as the rest of us stood in disbelief at what we'd just seen.

Then the crowd started a chant-like countdown, starting at 10. Only then did I see that the shot man on the floor was attempting to rise. Everyone shouted in unison as his time dwindled, and finally, just when they were about to say "one," he triumphantly got back up on his feet, and they celebrated him.

He then unzipped the coat he was wearing to reveal the bullet-proof vest that had been hiding underneath. The bearded shooter, looking slightly disappointed, opened a cash box, grabbing the fat stack of cash within, all $50s and $100s. He slid a few bills off the top, and handed them to the big winner.

"Are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin', Cass?" Tulip whispered as the men celebrated.

"I tink so, but I'm not entirely happy about it," he answered.

“And what exactly _are_ you two thinking?" I demanded to know.

"Cass gets shot for real, we threaten to call the cops. And when they all run off like scared little boys, we enjoy their money," Jesse said. "That about right?"

"You got it, padre."

"Hey, no, hold on, Cass," I rushed. "I'm not letting you get shot. You literally caught a bullet two days ago and you're still healing from that."

"But this'll be different," he said. "Regular, non-magic bullets. I've got a bag o' blood here. I'll be right as rain in just a few minutes. And listen, ya bought all that stuff fer _Denis_ wit' yer own money, 'n that's not right. It'll be my way of repayin' ya."

"It's not worth it, Cass," I argued.

"I promise it'll not be a big deal," he said. "_Trust me_."

Dammit. Cass always knew exactly how to sway me.

"But, look they'll make you wear the vest," I continued to argue. "So you won't even get hit."

"Not necessarily," Tulip interjected. "See, bullet-proof doesn't _really _mean bullet-proof, know what I mean? That vest—and I _know_ they just reuse it over and over, so it's compromised—there's no way it's rated higher then level IIIa. Large-caliber weapon, right on the money'll rip through it like tinfoil."

I guess they _had_ thought this through.

"Okay, okay," I finally gave in. "But I don't agree with it."

"Alright," Jesse rubbed his hands together. "We're gonna need a preacher—that's me—and a girlfriend. You up for that, Ada?"

"I mean, yeah," I answered. "What will that entail, exactly?"

Tulip whispered the details into my ear.

"So I gotta put on a big old show," I summarized.

"The grift really doesn't work if you don't," she said.

"And you're sure none of these guys are tied to Viktor?" I asked. I didn't want this con to blow our cover.

"I'm positive," she said. "I mean, look at 'em. We're good. Go get 'em."

And with that, she took Cass's bag and the puppy hidden within, threw Cass's arm over my shoulder, and pushed us both forward to the center of the room. The show was on.

"Uh..." I cleared my throat loudly to catch the men's attention. "Excuse me! Thanks. So let me get this straight. You get shot, you get up, you get paid, right?"

"That's right," said the man with the beard. He had an arrogant air about him, like he was thrilled by the prospect of making good money off of us.

"In that case, my man has this in the bag," I said with a smirk.

"What? Wh... uh, no," Cass faked his hesitation. "I... I'm not sure I want to…"

"Hey," I assured him, tilting his face toward me with my hand. "You've got this. And it's not like it'd be the first time you've been shot. C'mon. Show 'em."

That got him excited. He'd been showing off his scar to anyone who'd look, and he didn't hesitate to flaunt it yet again. He lifted his silly pink shirt, bearing the image of a frolicking corgi over an inverted cross, to display the thick scar tucked into the center of the hair on his chest.

"Christ," said the bearded man. "What kinda gun gave you that?"

"Some sort o' revolver, I tink?" Cass said, looking to me for clarification.

"A Walker Colt," I said.

That caused the men to snicker.

"What," one of them joked, "you fight in the goddamn Civil War or somethin'?"

"Nah mate, I was about half a century late fer that," he said. "And on the wrong continent, o' course. Not that I haven't had me run-ins with Confederate soldiers..."

He realized he was saying too much, and promptly shut up.

"What he's saying is, he's got it handled," I said. "Isn't that right, Cass?"

He nodded in the affirmative, and we were asked up to pony up $100 cash for the pool. Once we had, someone tossed Cass the vest.

God, it was heavy, and he was having his reservations as I strapped him into it with firm velcro straps.

"You _sure_ about this?" I whispered to him.

"I'm sure," he said, in the voice of someone who absolutely wasn't. "I'm sure!" he repeated when he saw my reaction.

It was then that Jesse entered the scene, his cocky stance signifying that he knew he was the most dignified man in the room.

"Excuse me," he announced himself. "Hold on now. Hold on. What do you think the good lord would say about this?"

Cassidy listened in eagerly, like Jesse was talking good sense. Despite his decision, I think he was still looking for a way out.

"He wouldn't say a damn thing, preacher," I retorted. "If he is out there, he's never weighed in on anything or lifted a finger for any one of us. Why should now be any different?"

That got the guys murmuring amongst themselves. I wondered what they could have possibly thought about the whole thing.

"Listen to your hearts, men," Jesse continued, maintaining his holier-than-thou presence. "Ask yourselves, is this really the right thing to do?"

"Are you all really going to let yourself get talked out of a lucrative venture by this stuck-up Jesus freak?" I goaded the men. "But, you know what? He's got a point. Ask your hearts what's right."

"My heart says we should shoot him," one very vocal man shouted from the crowd. The rest of the guys hurrahed, and there was pretty much no coming back from that.

"What's your pleasure?" asked the bearded man, inviting me to view the firearms on offer.

In front of me laid my options, six different guns, from a dinky snubnose to a huge, intimidating revolver, all labeled with the odds. The largest was going for 100:1—not that we were actually here to play fair. As much as it'd hurt, we were supposed to be going for size.

"Bigger gun means a bigger payout?" I asked. I was told that was right.

"Why not choose the biggest one?" Jesse egged me on, capturing the attention of the crowd.

"The biggest?" I asked.

"If you have such a love for money and so little love for life, why not pick the biggest one they got? Or is your _heart_ tellin' you to back down?"

Cassidy took a deep breath, knowing we were fully in it now. We'd all made sure of that. The anticipation hurt nearly as bad as the shot was going to.

"Fine, preacher," I answered, and then turned back to the others. "We'll take the biggest gun you've got."

“You got it” answered the bearded man, but when I expected him to reach for the big gun on the table, he whistled, and looked to the bar.

There, the bartender procured the largest gun of them all, a massive Smith & Wesson 500 that shone even in the dim light of the place. It was a terrifying, mighty thing.

"Oh, dear God," Cass muttered. This was not going to be pleasant for him. Not in the slightest.

But it was time, and as a bullet was loaded into the chamber, I walked with Cass over to his mark. I hated this, and though I knew he did too, there was an incredible determination in his eyes that I had to admire.

"I'm so sorry, Cass," I whispered to him. "This is going to suck, but I know you can do it."

"What'd we get ourselves into this time, eh?" he grinned, and then exhaled a big sigh. "But I'll be okay. I've dealt wit' worse. It's fer a good cause."

"And don't forget I love you."

"I love you, too," he said.

The corners of his mouth turned up into another smile before I cut it off by pressing my lips to his, the delicious kiss an apology and a balm for what was about to come as much as it was a part of the performance. I didn't want it to end, and Cass was particularly desperate for it to continue and delay the inevitable, but we knew it was time when the crowd began to shuffle impatiently.

Once it broke, I looked up at him one last time, wishing I could apologize a million times and undo any future pain, before I returned. The bearded man was eyeing me once I did.

"Hey, miss," he said. "Double the money if you got the nerve to do the shootin'."

I felt the knot in my stomach grow and twist even tighter.

"Sorry," I told him. "I already like our odds..."

But then Tulip asked Jesse were looking at me expectantly—like I _had_ to do it. It wasn't like we'd even be taking home more money... But as they stared, I understood it was necessary to sell the con. In for a penny, in for a pound. Even Cass seemed to relax slightly at the sudden change.

"Fine," I announced. "I'll do it."

If they believed I'd chicken out, they couldn't be more wrong.

Cass braced himself for the shot, limbering up his body, as I picked up the enormous gun, which was far too big for me. Even knowing there was only one round in the chamber, and pointing it at someone who couldn't genuinely be harmed, I felt I was wielding something incredibly destructive and deadly.

Honestly, it scared the shit out of me, but Tulip seemed confident about me handling it, and was excited to coach me through my first shot. It was about then that I'd wished I'd had any practice, even once, with something smaller.

"First, keep your finger off the trigger until you're absolutely ready to shoot," she explained, standing slightly behind me. "You do _not _want that thing firin' without your say so. Second, you’re gonna wanna steady yourself, 'cause that recoil is gonna be a bitch. Keep your feet shoulder-width apart, and keep your weight real even and stable. Lean forward a little. Third, you gotta have a good grip. Clutch it tight with both hands, and get your upper back and shoulder muscles into it, holdin’ your arms out straight in front of you, parallel to the ground. When you squeeze the trigger, you _will _feel it kick back, so you needa compensate. You'll wanna, like, _push_ it forward like an invisible force is tryin' to push it back at you, if that makes sense? Absorb it."

God, that was a lot of information. I wasn't even sure I'd soaked it all in. Not that a repeat would do anything but tense my nerves up even tighter.

"You ready?" she finally asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I answered, clutching at the gun, still not sure I was doing it right.

"You got this," she kissed me on the cheek, and placed a heavy set of earmuffs over my ears.

I tried to steady my hands as I pointed at Cass, my heart pounding so fast now I thought it might stop, and finally gathered the courage to squeeze the trigger.

I felt dazed in the wake of the shot. Even despite the ear protection, the blast was deafening, leaving my ears ringing as the force of the shot felt strong enough to push me over backward, as if someone had kicked against it with all their might. Even still, I managed to hold on, the muzzle only rising up slightly as I soaked up the force into my shoulders.

And then, right in front of me, I saw Cass, collapse to the floor, the blood soaking through the vest, a spray coating the dart board on the wall behind him.

I shouted Cassidy's name as I instinctively shoved the gun back into the hands of the nearest man and ran to Cass's side.

"Fuck," I yelled as I shook him on the ground. "Cass? Cass?!?"

I tried to sound more frantic as I continued. I didn't even realize I was already crying. This was probably too soon. Too real. My head knew it was all a game, but a small part of me was still getting over what could have been—what _should_ have been, if Cass hadn't been Cass.

"Please," I begged the men, who watched in bafflement, some starting to step away from the debacle. "Somebody _please_ help. He needs a doctor..."

I knew very well that there was no doctor in this backward place.

That's when Jesse approached, kneeling beside Cass as he tested the pulse at his neck with two fingers. He shook his head.

"He's gone," Jesse murmured, apologetically.

And I don't know what came over me then, but I slapped Jesse, brisk and fast across the face. The sharp sound echoed through the room as he glared at me.

"You're a fucking liar," I screamed at him. "Please, please just..."

And I found myself buried in the front of Jesse's shirt, bawling, with real tears running down his front. He patted me in the back, like he wasn't sure what else to do.

"Someone call the police," he called out urgently as I wept. "You're all witnesses. I call upon your Christian sense of decency to stand up and… give your account."

By those last words, each and every one of the patrons had scattered, leaving the place entirely to us.

Cassidy groaned as he sat up and Tulip brought over his bag. Banjo hopped out to nuzzle against him, whimpering slightly, and I wiped my eyes as I grabbed the cool pouch of blood from the bottom of the bag, ripped out a tube and put it in his mouth like a straw.

"Are you alright?" I asked him as he took his first gulps. "I'm so sorry I shot you, Cass. We shouldn't have ever done this."

"I'm doin' grand, love," he promised me between sips. "You did great. I'm proud o' ya. And there's no reason to be sorry. It's worked out alright. Free money _and _an open bar."

"It's just hard to see you get hurt," I told him.

"Oh, but it was wort' every penny," he said. "Y'know I've been t'rough much worse. And lookee here..."

He undid the vest—revealing the corgi on his shirt had been shot right between the eyes—and a spent bullet with a round, flat tip tumbled to the floor. Despite the ring of blood on his shirt, there was no wound whatsoever.

"Like it never happened," he grinned, showing all off his sharp teeth. "Now what would ya like to drink?"

Tulip and Jesse were already sat at the far end of the bar, having grabbed all the money out of the box and poured themselves their own glasses of expensive-looking whiskey. Denis had also helped himself to some brandy, sitting not far from a white-haired patron who had seemingly fallen asleep at the bar.

While I sat at a barstool, Cass got behind the bar, looking quite at home amongst the varied liquors, eyeing everything they had on offer. I'd also lifted Banjo up onto the counter, and he watched Cass curiously.

"_Denis, tu veux boire quelque chose_?" Cass asked if he wantedsomething else to drink. "_Whisky_? _Bière_?"

He simply shook his head as he nursed his glass.

"And how about you two?" he shouted at Tulip and Jesse, interrupting their conversation.

"We're good!" Tulip answered, sounding slightly snappy, and he left it at that.

"Alright," he finally said to me. "I know that you of all people will appreciate me talents. I used to tend bar a while back, y'know."

"I did _not_ know," I told him. "But yes, I'd very much like to see. How far back was this exactly?"

"Who can keep track?" he smiled. "Now I know ya don't really drink, but I can virgin-ify just about anytin'. Let's indulge yer curiousity."

I only had to think about it for a moment.

"Well," I said, "I've always wanted to try a White Russian."

His smile quickly changed to an expression I couldn't quite place.

"Aw, yer fuckin' wit' me now," he groaned.

"What do you mean?" I asked, genuinely not sure what I'd done.

"Well fer one, that's the drink from _The Big Lebowski_. I've not forgotten." Ahh. That _was_ probably how I knew about it in the first place. "And second, a virgin White Russian is just a bloody iced coffee.

"I like iced coffee," I shrugged, and he sighed deeply, though he couldn't disguise the smile on his face. "Okay. Nix that. Just make me something you think I'll like. I trust your judgment."

"Y'know what?" he said. "I know o' just the ting."

He turned away from me then, mixing my drink up at a little table in the back, so it'd all be a big surprise.

"Y'know, we make a good team, the four of us," he spoke as he worked, pouring coffee grinds into a machine. "We got a good dynamic. Balance. Wit'out any one of us, it all falls apart. Like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, curious—and not sure if that was true in the slightest. "And which of the turtles am I?"

"Donatello," he answered without any hesitation as the coffee brewed. "Logical. Level-headed. Kind. And ya do machines."

That put a pretty big smile on my face.

"And them?" I gestured to Tulip and Jess.

"Jess it a total Leo," he said, now shaking some liquid and ice around between two thick metal cups. "Righteous. Truth, justice 'n that. De facto leader. Tulip's Raphael. Courageous, direct, takes shit from no one. Pretty much calls the shots."

"Which leaves..."

"Mikey," Cass turned his head back to look at me with a grin as he put his finishing flourishes on the drink with the soda gun.

"Party dude," I nodded in agreement with a little laugh.

"And _Denis_ can be Master Splinter," he added. "_Aimes-tu maître _Splinter_, Denis?_

_Le rat ninja géant_?"

Denis had _no_ idea what he was talking about and grimaced at the very mention of a giant ninja rat.

"Ah_, laisse tomber," _Cass told _Denis_ to never mind as he finally turned around with my drink in hand.

It was served in a short, clear glass and was filled with a light, creamy coffee-colored liquid, with a layer of bubbly off-white foam on top, and chunks of ice piled high. A straw poked out the top.

"And what is this delicious concoction?" I asked him, intrigued.

"This, me love, is a Colorado Bulldog," he explained. "Typically equal parts Kahlúa, vodka 'n cream over ice, n topped wit' cola. Yers is basically an iced coffee wit' some Coke mixed in, but I promise ya you'll love it."

It certainly sounded weird, but I was game. I took that first creamy, bubbly sip and every one of my expectations was exceeded. It was a little sharp and a little bitter all at once, but somehow incredibly smooth as well. Before I realized what I was doing, I'd drained the entire thing.

"I'll take it ya like it?" Cass laughed at me. "I'll make ya another."

"Only if it's not too much trouble..." I said, but I didn't really mean it because I could have drank them by the gallon.

"I anticipated this," he answered. "Put the whole pot o' coffee on, so I can keep 'em comin'."

"Alright," I said. "But not _too_ many, or they'll keep me up all night."

"If they don't, I will," he winked as he turned to make me a second round, and I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

With the coffee ready, this one was ready in no time at all. He also took a shot glass and piled it high with a swirl of whipped cream for the dog, who lapped it up happily.

"And what are you drinking?" I asked.

He quickly grabbed a tall bottle filled with a mahogany-tinged liquid and placed it on the table.

"Now give that a whiff," he told me, and I did. I was surprised it didn't smell like pure, burning alcohol. There was a hint of that, but mostly I smelled vanilla, and citrus, with an aroma like sweet cigar smoke.

When I looked back up at Cass, I was wondering why he suddenly looked so offended until I turned around and saw that Tulip and Jesse were leaving.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa?" Cass called out. "Where are you going?The night's still young! We haven't even drank the Armagnac yet!"

They didn't even respond as they exited out the front.

"Bollocks," he shook his head. "At least you appreciate what I do around here."

That I did. From behind the bar, Cass procured a fancy little glass that was like a wine glass but much shorter, with a stubby stem and a thick, round bowl that narrowed quite a lot at the rim. Cass poured himself just a small taste of the stuff, swirling it sound before taking a thoughtful sip.

When he offered Denis a taste, I was surprised at Denis's reaction. He had an almost giddy smile. Cass wasn't sure how to take it.

"_Tu as passé une bonne soirée?_" he asked Denis if he'd had a nice evening.

And then Denis explained that the last couple of days had been _very_ nice, because he knew exactly where they were leading.

When Cass didn't catch his drift, Denis elaborated. He said all of this, the gifts, the time together, the careful attention, were clear signs that Cass was soon going to give him what he'd always wanted—eternal life.

Cassidy was a bit blindsided by it, honestly, and he didn't quite know how to answer.

Then Denis said he was ready. He wanted to be bitten, right this minute—before his illness progressed further. Cassidy would save him so much pain, he explained.

But Cass wasn't ready. Not in the slightest. He told Denis that he heard him, he understood, but he had to think about it more. He'd figure it out. He asked Denis to give him a few more days, and in the meantime promised we'd do everything we could for him.

Denis really believed what he said, and had just received the last answer he'd wanted to hear.

"_Va te faire foutre,_" he cursed and spat, and then he slammed down his wine glass and stormed off.

Cass looked so miserable then that I couldn't stand it.

"I'm so sorry, Cass," I told him. "Come back over here. Sit down with me.”

I dragged the nearest stool closer to me, and Cass came around from behind the bar, taking a seat before taking comfort in my outstretched arms.

That was when the sleeping man finally woke, lifting his head.

"Excuse me," he butted in, "I couldn't help overhearing. I'm a French professor from Tulane..."

"You can fuck right off," Cass turned his head away from our embrace to scold him, and the old man nodded quickly, and then sauntered away.

"Is _Denis_ right?" he asked in a whisper, right in my ear. "Do I have to do it now? Nip his sufferin' in the bud before it gets real bad? I still don't know."

"I wish I had an answer for you, Cass," I answered. "It's... You can't make this decision lightly. I think, you have to be _sure_, know what I mean?"

"I do, Adelaide," he sniffled, letting go and sitting up straight again. "And I'm not sure at all. But what if I never am?"

On the bar, Banjo stepped over to him, offering up his neck for a couple of strokes from Cass's slender, tattooed fingers.

"Not making that choice is always an option," I told him. "I'm not saying it's right. But maybe it's not wrong, either."

"Maybe," he pondered. "Well this all turned the mood right quick, didn't it? I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Proinsias," I promised him. "I can't tell you how proud of you I am. You're taking this seriously, not running away."

"I gotta admit that option's rather temptin' at the moment," he said. "Me first instinct is still to get extremely high."

"You got anything on you?"

"Nah, I ditched it all a while back," he shook his head. "Tryin' to be good."

He'd come so far. I really was so proud.

"Well then it's a good thing you have access to the bar," I joked.

"Ya mind if I get off me face?" he asked, sounding slightly guilty.

"I absolutely insist," I told him, "all things considered."

At that, he took the bottle of Armagnac and pulled the neck directly to his lips, chugging down a few gulps of the rich liquid before pausing.

"By the way," he said, somewhat seriously, "I declare me consent to any sexual activities I may initiate while sloppy drunk."

"Good to know, Cass," I told him as he brought me the coffee pot, a chilled carafe of cream and the soda gun and continued to drink, downing the Armagnac, and then a couple bottles of whiskey, and then some other strange-smelling liquids I couldn't identify.

As he drank, I had to remember he was no ordinary human being. That amount of booze would have likely killed a normal man—and in the past, I'd seen him imbibe bottle after bottle without getting even tipsy. Now, though, I saw just how much it took to really inebriate him.

Over the course of the night, he never stopped talking, at first about what he wished he could have done differently with Denis, and then he managed to let that go as he started slightly slurring words, bringing up any random thoughts he had running in his head. At one point, the news ran a report on some kind of Vietnamese levitating pig, and neither of us were sure whether we were seeing things or missing out on some kind of big joke.

I listened and commiserated as I sipped at my drinks, and then there came a point where, if he kept going, I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be able to get him home. He reeked so strongly of alcohol that I vowed to steer him clear of any open flames, lest he combust.

By then, he was quite amenable to my suggestions, and we collected Banjo, who'd fallen asleep right in the counter, and were headed home in the drizzle. Cass was stumbling, but could still walk, as we made our way.

"And yeah, I tink incest is _gross_," he was muttering nonsensically, "'N I would _never_, y'know, but who am _I_ to say two people who love each other can't be happy, like? Listen, if the main ting is fucked up kiddies, what if they don't want 'em anyway? Gays 'n lesbians, right? On average, they're not goin' to have many inbred kids wit' each other, that's fer sure. I just tink maybe we gotta tink the whole ting over."

It was too late, and I was too hopped up on caffeine, to know whether he was actually making sense or I'd just lost it. Either way, we were nearly home. He was leaning on me heavily, now, but we were going to make it.

"Tanks for listenin' to me, Adelaide," he was saying now. "Yer always such a good listener, must be hard wit' me bein' such a bloviator.”

"I always love listening to you, Cass," I assured him as we trudged onward. “I can always count on you to say things I’ve never heard before.”

"I really do love ya so much," he continued. "I must o' done sometin' pretty alright in at least one o' me past lives. I can't believe I get to talk me mouth off 'n somebody gives a shit. Ya take care o' me, guide me. And let's not forget ya let me get naked wit' ya. How does a man get so lucky?"

"Are you kidding?" I asked him quietly. We'd managed to get to the bottom of the stairs up to the apartment. This would be the hardest part, and we took it step by step. "I got to fall in love with a dashing immortal with an incredible sense of humor and multiple lifetimes' worth of tales to tell. And you actually care whether I cum or not? You don't realize how rare you are."

That made him smile wide, and before we knew it, we'd made it to the door. We were as quiet as we could be as we stepped inside, immediately making our way to the room.

We spilled Banjo out of his little bag onto the foot of the bed, and Cass looked like he was ready to pass out any second. And yet, at we rested by lamplight, his lips were messily pressed to mine, filling my senses with his touch and the burning aroma of strong booze.

"I wanna demonstrate my rarity," he slurred. "Can I give ya a taste before bed?"

"You may," I permitted, my heart already pumping hard at the thought as he hastily unzipped my jeans. He pulled them off of me, one leg at a time, and then slid my panties down to my knees before moving in to kiss the sweet, soft place between my legs.

I moaned and tensed at his gentle touch before he curled his tongue into a hard, broad point and pressed it against my clit, rocking his head forward and back to stroke it into ecstasy. He looked up at me as he worked, and the twinkling corners of his eyes told me he loved watching my pleasure as much as I enjoyed receiving it.

His firm but soft touch was almost too delicious as my calls got louder, and my breath caught and hitched as my wetness spread and the warm, blissful sensation radiated wherever he touched his tongue to me.

His tongue was working in a circle now, perfectly looping, perfectly consistent at just the frequency to push me into the deep end.

"Ah, Jesus, Cass," I whispered to him, giving into his influence, "that's it, oh yeah I'm gonna cum..."

And he kept on like that until it happened, and my hips bucked and I moaned out as that pure sensation filled me, leaving me delirious. He continued lapping at me as I rode the powerful peak, and then slowly let off, keeping perfectly still with his tongue still pressed against me.

"Thank you for that, Cass," I said through rapid breaths as I ran my fingers through his hair. "That was exactly what I needed. Now how about you...?"

It wasn't the sound of his snoring that told me he was out cold, but the sensation of his steady breath against me. It was quite the sight.

I rather clumsily rolled him off me and got his mouth shut, but there was no risk of waking him. I wouldn't have blamed someone if they thought he were dead.

I got changed into pajamas, and snuggled up close to him, and though it took a long while for sleep to come, my mind still buzzing with questions about God, and Denis, and what might come next, I laid there with a smile on my face until the dreams arrived.

* * *

I was still exhausted when I awoke alone in our bed. My eyes felt heavy as I glanced at the clock, revealing it was well past 2 p.m. and I'd already slept most of the day away.

I got up to seek out Cassidy. The living room was empty, but the door to Denis's room was cracked open. As I made my way to it, I heard a soft jingling sound, and soon Banjo peeked his little head out. Upon seeing me, he hopped over happily to me.

After giving him a little scratch under the chin, I picked him up with one arm and approached the room. Cass was sitting in a chair there, red-eyed and weary as he watched over Denis. His breathing was sounding bad again, labored even as he dozed.

I tapped on the door with my fingers, and when Cass turned to look at me, his heavy, concentrated expression softening into a smile.

"Are you doing okay?" I asked in a whisper.

"Severely hungover, but I'll live," he answered quietly as he held his head. "Always do."

"And him?" I asked.

"Seems rough," Cass admitted. "I tink we would take 'im back to hospital. See if there's anytin' we can do fer 'im."

He didn't bring up our other option. Neither would I.

"Where's Tulip?" I asked.

"She went out," he answered. "Didn't catch where. Jesse's gone, too."

"Well when she gets back, let's get _Denis_ a ride," I said pulling up a seat next to Cass. "In the meantime, we'll just do what we can."

The wait felt torturously long, and it hurt to see Cass be so worried. Denis woke occasionally, bursting into a coughing fit, and one of us would grab him water and aspirin, and then he'd rest again. Twice, I tried to place Banjo on the bed at his feet, but the dog wanted nothing to do with him.

Throughout the day he ate a little—soup, mostly—begrudgingly accepting our help. He'd mutter under his strained breath so we could barely hear. I caught words like bite and pain and life. Even so, Cass remained resolute.

When Tulip finally did come home, she looked slightly dazed, but unburdened as well. She moved like she was sore, barely shifting her upper body. Where'd she been? The gym didn't seem likely. And yet...

When Cass and I rather frantically begged her for a ride, she didn't have much of a choice. Getting Denis to the car wasn't exactly easy, but she got us back to the hospital with all the urgency we could have asked for.

I wish we could have gotten better news from the doctors. Cass clutched my hand tight, and I squeezed it back as they told us Denis wasn't going to last more than a couple of weeks. The disease had progressed more quickly than anticipated, and if he was going to be most comfortable at home, that's where he should be. A doctor would be stopping by every couple of days to check on and treat him, and they sent us off with oxygen tanks and drugs to dull the pain, and to help him sleep, and warned us about what the final stages of his illness would look like.

God, Cass looked so tired as we wheeled Denis back to the car.

"Hey," I reminded him quietly. "Whatever we have to do, I'm behind you 100%."

He nodded gently, trying to smile, as we got back into Tulip's car to head home.

We barely slept that night, both up in the living room with Denis resting on the couch, at the ready in case he needed anything. He didn't wake often, but when he did, he needed someone to lean on to get to the bathroom, and the drugs made him so thirsty.

I must have fallen asleep first, sitting upright in my chair, because at some point, I woke to the soft, but bright and beautiful sound of Cassidy singing.

"Way down in Tipperary where cow plop is thick," he crooned, his voice sonorous and soothing, "where women are young and

the lads all come quick, there lived pretty Charlotte, the girl we adore, the pride of the dear Erin, the scarlet-haired whore.It's Charlotte the harlot, the girl we adore, the pride of dear Erin, the scarlet-haired whore..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! This is a chapter I've been turning around in my head since I very first started this fic, so I hope you enjoy this one! 
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear from you. Please drop a comment if you'd like, and let me know if there's anything you particularly like so I can include more of it :)


	38. A Little Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Denis's health worsens, Cassidy insists Ada join Jesse in his last-ditch effort to find God.

I awoke to the strange sensation of something soft and fluffy brushing my face. It was Banjo, snuggling up close to me, sharing his warmth. He wanted company, it seemed, and Cass's half of the bed was empty.

This had been the case for two days in a row, now, and it struck me how much I hated waking up without him there.

He must have been up and tending to Denis—which reminded me that I actually had never come to bed last night. I was still in my clothes from the day before, too. Cass must have carried me to bed and tucked me into the covers at some point.

Unfortunately, I hadn't been much help trying to stay up with him to watch after Denis. I appreciated that he'd rather have me get real sleep in a bed. If not for that, I probably would have been quite cranky right now.

I stepped out of the bedroom, the pup following closely behind, to find that Jesse was standing behind Cass in Denis's bedroom doorway. I stepped over, too, to see that a doctor was in to see Denis. He spoke French, trying to put the wheezing man at ease as he gave him several injections. The doctor asked if he was feeling better at all as he checked his heart and lungs with his stethoscope, and Cass let out a deep sigh.

"Bit of a rough night," Cass was explaining to Jesse.

Then he saw me and gave me a gentle smile. I stepped around Jesse,

saying my good mornings to them both, approaching Cass to wrap my arms around him, and he held me back, giving me a little squeeze. Banjo also took a seat near his feet.

"Doctor said it's no use in hospital," he continued. "Just give him a sedative 'n told us just be here for him, y'know?"

"Anything I can do?" Jesse asked. He was fidgeting with a disc in a case in his hands. I looked up at Cass and shot him a look. He acknowledged it with a tiny nod.

"Nah, we're good," Cass answered quickly, delaying the inevitable question. "Uh, you headed out?"

"I thought I'd go to Circuit Works," Jesse said.

"Right. Okay. Fun," Cass replied.

He was barely paying attention now. All his energy and focus were on his son.

"Takin' the God audition," Jesse elaborated impatiently, waving the disc. "It's your idea, right? See if they can enhance the video, blow up the image?"

Cass nodded and agreed, but again his mind was elsewhere.

"Look for serial numbers on the barrel of the gun?" Jesse continued, desperately fishing for more of a reaction from Cass. "See if they can trace the..."

"Back to the owner, yeah," Cass finished his sentence, just to show he was hearing him. "Like they do on the shows. Makes sense."

"It’s my only lead," Jesse whispered. For once, he showed some humility. "It's all I got."

"Well, it's a good idea," Cass responded. "I'm glad I t’ought of it. Tell me how you get on, alright?"

Before Jesse could leave, I tugged on Cass's shirt. I didn't want to be the one to ask, but there was something we needed to try.

"Padre?" Cass cleared his throat. "Um... Y'know when you were askin' if there was anyt'in' ya could do to help? With _Denis_?"

"You want me to pray for him?" Jesse asked.

"No, Christ, no," Cassidy practically laughed in Jesse's face, to his offense. “Well, sure, if it'd help, like, but that's not what I was tinkin'.

"What?"

"Look, I don't know if it's possible or even doable or how your power works there in terms o' guidelines 'n parameters—what the bloody rules are, per se—but, padre, he's dyin', alright? Maybe ya could just..."

"Jesus, Cass," Jesse interrupted. "I mean, I'm not sure Genesis could help. But even if it could, I just... I, I don't think that's what it's for..."

Now that pissed me off. I soon found myself breaking free of Cass's embrace, and grabbing Jesse's sleeve to drag him into the hallway, so as not to disturb Denis.

"What the hell do you mean, 'not what it's for?" I demanded. "What's it for, then? Sending kids to Hell? Making cops pepper spray their own junk? Or just acting as a truth serum when your other interrogation techniques don't work?"

"Ada, just calm down..." he started, but I wasn't having it.

"No, Jesse," I said. "Not for something this important. This is Cassidy's _son_, okay? If the tables were turned, he wouldn't hesitate for a second to do this for you. He's taken two bullets for you in the last week, renember, so show him some fucking respect. Maybe it won't work, but what does it hurt to try?"

He was going to argue, I could just feel it, but every time he started, I interrupted him. He wasn't going to talk his way out.

"What does it hurt, Jesse?" I repeated.

"It... nothing," he finally said.

"Good," I said. "Now go back in there and _try_."

Okay, maybe I was still a little cranky. But at least I got results.

Jesse stepped into the room, past Cass, and stood behind the doctor. He felt awkward, I could tell, so he moved two pointed fingers in the air in a cross shape, as if he were conducting some kind of blessing, before speaking.

"**_Heal_**," he used the Word simply before promptly leaving the room.

Cass patted him on the shoulder as he passed.

"T'ank you, mate," he told Jesse. "Truly."

"Sure, Cass," Jesse said, and he excused himself before rushing out the front door.

We were silent for a second, our eyes still on Denis and the doctor, when Cass surprised me.

"Ada, maybe you should join 'im?" he suggested.

"Wha... go with Jesse to Circuit Works?" I asked.

I couldn't fathom why he would want that.

"Look, you've done so much fer me 'n _Denis_ the last coupla days," he said. "Ya deserve a break, just an hour away from this place. To clear yer mind. Reset."

"But what about you?" I asked. "I can't leave you alone right now."

"I won't be alone," he said. "I've got _Denis_, and he'll keep me good n' preoccupied, I can assure you o' that. Maybe Jesse's Word will have helped. And Banjo will stick wit' me, won't ya, boy?I'm sure ya won't be gone too long, neither."

"Are you _absolutely_ sure?" I asked. "I just want to help."

"Yes, Adelaide," he insisted. "It'll be good fer ya, and that's good fer all t'ree of us. Plus, you n' Jess could use some mendin' time."

"Alright, Cass," I gave in, "but if you need me for any reason, and I mean _any, _you call straight away, okay?"

"I promise," he said, and he pulled me in right for a long, soft kiss, which only made me regret leaving him alone even more. "Now run along before ya miss 'im."

I did, but a small part of me hoped Jesse was already long gone. Maybe I should have handled things differently with him, but I couldn't stand his hypocrisy, and I'd had to do _something_ to make him see it.

Jesse was still making his way down the stairs as I stepped out the front door. _Damn_. But I immediately felt better upon seeing that Tulip was also home, a manilla envelope in hand.

"Can I come?" she was asking him, looking down from the middle of the stairway as he descended.

"Sure," he answered, turning back with a strange hint of warmth and hope in his voice.

"I'll join, too," I announced myself, and while Jesse looked like that was the last thing he needed right now, Tulip perked right up at the thought.

I wasn't the only one who noticed Jesse's sour expression.

"Oh c'mon," Tulip said. "Do you or do you not want help findin' God?"

"I _do_, but..."

"Then don't look so pissed about it," she said bluntly. "Ada, let's go—oh wait, but first..."

She held up the big envelope. It was from the Jefferson County Registrar's Office, and addressed to... well, shit.

"Grabbed the mail and there's this one envelope for an 'Adelaide Cassidy,'" Tulip told me, holding out the envelope so I could read it with her, scrunching her face. "That's not Cass's name, is it?"

"I don't think so." I forced a laugh.

My heart suddenly thumped at the realization that this could very well reveal our secret. But no—Tulip really had no idea. I was relieved by the veil of anonymity we both had in our full names. Maybe I really could brush this aside.

"I'm sure Cass'll know what's up with this," I said as inconspicuously as I could.

I took it from her and headed back up to the apartment, sliding it under the front door for him, hoping he'd be careful. It must have been our marriage certificate. I couldn't believe it'd be a week to the day tomorrow since we'd been wed. Somehow it'd seemed like an eternity and an instant all at once.

When I returned, Tulip took my hand, and with that, we were on our way.

As Jesse stomped ahead, driven by a pounding sense of urgency, Tulip rambled all the way there. It was clear she was still depriving herself of sleep. The nightmares hadn't stopped, and she was growing more frightened every time she accidentally dozed off and they returned.

She told me Cass had offered her some kind of rat poison drink for dreamless sleep, which sadly didn't sound too far off, and that she'd made good friends with the boys at the Hurt Locker. In fact, she was still robbing them blind every night—just legitimately, this time. I couldn't imagine the bruising she must bear, and while I urged her to be careful, I saw this was also her way of coping, and I didn't have much of an alternative to offer her.

And while Jesse had told her the purpose of our visit—multiple times, in fact—she'd quickly forgotten, firmly believing we were headed there to replace the fridge. There was a _hole_ in it, after all, and the ancient thing was leaking the cold. She seemed oddly obsessed with setting this right. I supposed there wouldn't be any harm in killing two birds with one stone while we were there.

The Circuit Works was packed today, and as Jesse got into the Dork Docs line to have the God audition analyzed, Tulip almost immediately wandered off into the Appliances and Electronics section.

"Your attention, please," said a voice over the P.A. "Don't forget our anniversary sale, coming up this weekend from 6 to 9 a.m. Saturday."

"Hear that, Tulip?" I said. "You don't want to wait until the sale to replace the fridge?"

"Nah, now's good," she said, flashing a very thick stack of hundreds that had been tucked inside her pocket. "Why wait when it's only... what, Thursday?"

"Monday," I corrected her. "And Jesus, put that away..."

She scowled and hid the cash again.

"But yeah, we don't wanna keep Denny waitin' til Saturday for an ice-cold fridge," she said cheerily.

_If he even lives that long, _I thought, with a chill. I had to push it out of my head. And then suddenly I was overwhelmed with fresh guilt for leaving Cass at home, regardless of what he told me I should do. I knew the tiny part of me telling me to head home right this second was overreacting. Instead I shot him a text.

"Don't forget to call if you need anything at all," it said. I sent it and turned the ringer all the way up, so I'd know right away if he responded. Then I put the phone away and tried not to think about how Denis must be doing right now.

Tulip never even noticed my preoccupation. She was chatting with an employee about the refrigerators. He was trying to sell her the most recent, most expensive model, and the glazed-over look in her eyes told me she didn't care about the specs. She was already sold, ice-maker and automatic defrost or not.

"Can I get it today?" she asked him.

And then Jesse showed up, demanding to know what we were up to over here.

"We needed a fridge," Tulip calmly explained.

The guy who worked there said we could have our order out for delivery in 20 minutes, and she felt her work here was done.

"Great!" she said, turning back to Jesse. "Let's go."

"Hold on," I told her.

"I’m still waiting on the Dork Dudes," Jesse explained.

"The what?" Tulip asked.

"The serial numbers?" he explained. "The reason we came here. Remember?"

She barely did.

"Oh, right," she said. "Yeah. You need me for that?"

Jesse gave her the most exasperated look, and I had to say I didn't blame him entirely. I felt I had to intervene.

"I think we've got it handled, right Jess?" I said.

"Right," he repeated with a sigh.

"Cool," she said. "Thanks for the invite."

Tulip immediatelyheaded off home. Jesse shook his head, returning huffily to the waiting area in front of a wall of huge TV screens and taking a seat in one of the many chairs there, crossing his legs and folding his arms.

I took the moment to check my phone. No response. I sent another message to Cass: "Don't forget to tell him you love him." Then I took a seat next to Jesse.

"You know Tulip hasn't been sleeping, right?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. "Nightmares about the Saint of Killers."

"But, it's not just that, y'know?" I said. "The dream's about us all, too. Not being able to save her."

"What'd she tell you?"

His tone told me this was new information to him. Maybe she didn't tell him everything. Maybe I'd already said too much. But if it'd help her, I thought it was worth divulging.

"She said in the dream you're... well, I don't remember her wording exactly, but hollow? Like a shell, I think she said."

A panic seemed to set over his face, something deep and existential I couldn't pinpoint.

"In... This is all in the dream, right?" he asked, his tone urgent.

"Yeah..." I said, but now that I thought about it, Jesse had seemed different since our meeting with the Saint. Duller, somehow. "Jesse, what the hell happened to you."

There was a lifelessness to his face now that worried me, despite how little I really cared for Jesse. There was something weighing heavily on him.

"Ada, I'm gonna tell you somethin', and you have to swear you won't tell anyone," he begged of me. "Not Cass. Not Tulip. Swear... on Cassidy's soul."

He gulped slightly at that last word. This was something he wanted to get off his chest so badly that I couldn't deny him. I'd never seen him like this before.

"I swear," I said, and I meant it. Given what I now knew about the ways of the universe, I wasn't going to put any part of Cass at any kind of risk.

"Well," he said, leaning in close and explaining in a whisper, "that soul I gave the Saint to save your lives? It was... mine."

"What?" I asked him, trying to keep my voice down, but struggling given the bombshell he'd just dropped. "What about robbing Soul Happy Go Go?"

"I did," he said. "But they didn't have a match. Rare type, they said. So I... donated."

The guilt I already felt multiplied. I couldn't possibly put a value on a soul, and he'd given up his to save our lives. I'd said a few things to him I now dearly wished I could take back.

"Jesus, Jess," I told him. "I'm so sorry. If I'd only known..."

I couldn't even finish that thought, because a new one filled my head.

"So you don't have a soul?" I asked.

My mind was how swirling with all kinds of new questions.

"It was just 1%," Jesse said. "But... Jesus, even that little piece I haven't been the same since."

"You should tell Tulip," I told him sternly. "It'll help her understand. Maybe help her dreams, too."

"I _can't_," he said, and there was such an intense look in his deep, dark eyes that it took me aback.

And then it clicked. The Saint required a soul to be sent to Heaven or Hell. And there was no way on God's green earth that Jesse was sending any fraction of his soul to burn forever.

"Jesse, what did you do with the Saint?" I demanded.

He told me—that he was locked in an armored truck at the bottom of a swamp. Secure? Probably. But he'd lied to all of us.

"You realize that Tulip's not going to stop having nightmares until you fix this," I told him.

"Not necessarily," he said. "I'm dealing with it, okay?"

"You know where she's running off to every night?" I asked.

"Hurt Locker," he said. "I know. I don't get _why_..."

"Because she wants to _survive_," I told him. "The more bullets she can take, the better her odds. She's desensitizing herself."

"Is it working?" he asked.

"That's not the point," I said.

"Is there something between the two of you that I should know about?" he asked.

"What?"

"It's just, you ask a _lot_ of questions, and you're very involved in her business," he said. "And then there's the matter of your little hookup back home. I know you say it didn't mean anything, but I see the way she looks at you. At first I thought she might have a thing for Cass, but I see now that that's not it at all. What exactly is going on?"

"Look, it's not like that at all," I explained. "Tulip just needs someone to be there for her. You've been busy, so I've stepped in. That's it."

"I'm looking for _God_, Ada," he said. "My mission's important."

"I never said it's not!" I argued. "But Tulip's important, too, okay?"

He exhaled a big burst of air through his nose and didn't say another word. I didn't feel like speaking, either.

I checked my phone again. Still no response. No doubt, Cass was attending to Denis.

I sent another text: "We're gonna take longer than we thought. Don't forget to make him comfortable <3 Put on the Stooges or one of his Édith Piaf records."

I hoped it would be helpful.

My attention turned to the set of TV screens in front of us. I couldn't quite place what the ad playing might be for.

"From the ocean floor below to the mountain peaks above," narrated a voice over crashing waves and forested mountain peaks. "From the food you eat

to the mess you make."

It showed a man in a hot dog-eating contest in front of the American flag, and then a truck pouring garbage into a dump swarming with seagulls.

"We're behind it, making a today great for you and a tomorrow great for us."

Big text read "Grail Industries" before it gave way to a nuclear explosion. This had to be a promo for some bizarre new TV series, because no other option made sense.

As I was trying to piece it together, the P.A. blared again.

"Custer, Jesse," a voice announced. "The Dork Docs will see you now."

Regardless of the awkward silence, I had to see if Cass's suggestion would bear any fruit, and followed Jesse to the counter. There, two men in Dork Docs coats were looking very pleased with themselves.

"Dude..." one said, looking quite excited.

"You did it?” Jesse asked. "It worked?"

The relief in his voice was palpable.

"Enjoy the brilliance," the second man said, and turned around a monitor so we could both see the conclusion of the audition tape, leading up to the bit where Mark Harelik got shot.

"So we punch in nice and tight right there," he explained, "and—oh, now what do we see there on the gun barrel?"

The footage was crisp and clear as the screen zoomed into the gun on the screen, but the thing looked like it'd been wiped completely smooth.

"I don't see anything," Jesse said.

"No, you don’t,“ the first Dork Doc said, raising his hand for a high five.

"I don't see anything," Jesse said. "No serial numbers."

"That's right," the Dork Doc replied. "They've been scrubbed off. There's nothing on this tape that can identify who's holding that gun."

Both men nodded with a satisfied look.

"Jess, what _exactly_ did you ask them to do?" I asked.

"I said... But I want to know who's holding that gun," Jess said.

"Don't we know who's holding that gun?" asked the second again. And then after a pause, he added, "_You_.”

"It's not me!" Jesse said. "Why would I bring it in here if it was me?"

"To cover your ass," answered the first one.

"I thought you were worried about someone tracing this back to you," added the other. "But no, he was hoping that we'd find the serial numbers."

"Yes," Jesse said, his anger building into a low growl. "Like I said before. I need to know who's behind this."

"Yeah," the first one scrunched his face**. **"That's tough."

"There has to be some other way," Jesse muttered, holding his hands together tight as if in prayer. "There has to be."

"Should we watch it all one more time?" I asked. "Maybe for something we didn't see before?"

"Alright," Jesse answered. "Start it from the beginning."

We did, and maybe he was being a little jumpy, but only a few seconds in, Jesse noticed something.

"Stop," he said. "There. What is that?"

"Okay, that's a slate," said the second Dork Doc. "When you're making a movie, you..."

"In the reflection," Jesse scoffed. I hadn't noticed until he pointed it out, but there _was_ a suspicious reflection shining on the slate. “Behind the camera. That's a face."

Holy shit. I saw it. Kind of. This might actually be something.

"Or a coffee pot," said the first of them.

"I don't know," the other said. "I think he might be right. The resolution's completely deteriorated."

"Maybe if we did a pixel recalibration..."

This all sounded like TV detective bullshit and jargon to me. Was this real? Maybe Cass was right after all.

"Can you do it?" Jesse asked.

They required another minute, so Jess and I returned to the waiting area. I don't know about him, but my heart was racing. Maybe this really would lead somewhere.

Again, I returned to my phone. I knew I wouldn't have a response this time, but I still liked sending Cass little messages. It made me feel like I was helping.

"If he's asleep, sing him that lullaby again. I think it really helped him rest."

Sending the text really did settle my nerves somehow.

Jesse looked like he'd been waiting for me to finish, and his next question surprised me quite a lot.

"Ada, look, I know we have our differences, but would you pray with me?"

"What do you need me to do?" I asked.

I hadn't prayed since I was a little kid. I'd kind of given up on the whole religion thing after my pa died. I figured, if there _was_ a God, why should I revere him for doing something like that to me?

But now that I knew he was real—like _really_ real—maybe reaching a hand out to him, wherever he was, actually made some sense.

"Gimme your hand," Jesse said.

I stretched my hand out to him. He took it and curled his strong fingers tight around mine before he closed his eyes and started to utter his prayer.

"God," he said, in a low, almost pleading voice, "I don't know why I'm praying when I know you're not there, but, if this is your plan for me, and you can hear me, I'm asking for your help. I gave up a piece of my soul to find you. Don't let it be for nothin'. Please."

He opened his eyes and released my hand.

"Thanks..." he started saying, but he was washed out by the crackling sound of the P.A.

"Custer, Jesse," said the voice. "Please come to the Dork Docs."

As we rushed back to the counter, I wondered if Jesse's prayer would be answered.

"Any luck?" he asked them, full of excitement.

"Sorry, man. We've got nothin'," the second of them said.

"What?" Jesse asked.

He'd really been banking on something revelatory. Without this clue, we had nothing to go on at all.

"We enlarged the image, ran it through this pixel manipulator," the first one said, but..."

"He's right," the other continued. "It was a coffee pot."

"I guess maybe they had coffee before they killed him," said one.

"Or after they killed him," suggested the other.

I'd never seen the life drain out of someone's face so quickly.

"I'm really sorry, Jess." I touched his shoulder, not sure if there was anything else I could do.

"Nothin'," Jesse mumbled. "All this, for nothin'."

"Is there anything else we can help you with, sir?" asked the first Dork Doc.

It was the last thing Jesse needed to hear right now.

"Yeah, I'm looking for God!" he exploded. "You seen Him? You got Him back there?"

The Dork Docs looked at each other, but didn't appear too fazed.

"I'm sorry," Jesse apologized before he turned around and, defeated, began walking away. I chased after him.

"Oh, hey," the second one called out. "Your DVD."

"Like you said," Jesse muttered over his shoulder, "there's nothing on it."

But I immediately doubled back for it. It was inches from the shredder when I got there.

"He doesn't mean it," I said. "We'll be taking it back, thanks."

They put it back in the thin case for me and I quickly pocketed the disc. I wanted it mostly out of morbid curiosity, but it _could_ come in handy again, somehow, and destroying it seemed such a waste.

Jesse was already halfway down the block when I caught up with him. I wasn't sure if the expression on his face was anger, or fear, or sheer determination, but he still looked like a man on a mission.

"Where are you going?" I asked him, having to almost run to keep up with his brisk walk.

"I'm figurin' it out," he grunted.

"Maybe you should just take a breather for a second," I said, "Stop and formulate a plan. I know it looks like it, but this isn't a dead end..."

He did stop, then, turning around to look me straight in the eye.

"And what would you know about that?" Jesse shouted. "You've spent the entire time we've been here makin' goo-goo eyes at your boyfriend and trying to win over a dying man while I've been out bustin' my ass, losin' the most important parts of me. And now you feel like we're close, you're suddenly acting like you've always cared. I'm not buyin' it, Ada."

I didn't know what to say to that. He wasn't wrong. Not entirely. I could only stare back at him.

"Go home, Ada," he finally said. "Go be with Cass."

He didn't sound mad anymore. Just so tired.

He slowly turned away and continued on to only he knew where.

"Take care of yourself, Jesse," I shouted after him as he moved away. "And don't forget about Tulip."

He paused, and nodded, and at the next corner, he was gone.

As I started back home, I was startled by a beeping sound from my pocket. It was my text alert.

Cass had finally responded—just one simple message.

"Thank U. I love U," it read.

I needed to get home. I needed to be by his side. I let my feet get me there as quickly as they could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I was surprised how much I enjoyed writing some of these Jesse/Ada moments, given that I don't actually make them interact much, and I hope you enjoy them, too.
> 
> As always, I love hearing from you all, so if you've been thinking about commenting, please do so!


	39. One Hell of a Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassidy and Ada turn to an unlikely source to help them make a decision about Denis.

The second I was home, Cass ran to the door to greet me with a powerful embrace, little Banjo following close behind him. I hugged him back with all my might, noticing he stank, not just of sweat, but maybe vomit, and a few other implacably foul fragrances.

"T'ank ya fer the texts," he whispered to me, still holding me tight. "They've guided me t'rough one hell of a day."

"You should have called me home, Cass," I reminded him as we let go.

"No no no," he insisted, shaking his head as he walked back toward the living room. I followed closely behind. "You needed a bit o' normalcy. Yer lookin' much happier."

I hadn't realized it, but I felt better, too. That surprised me, given a few tense moments with Jesse. Perhaps they'd been cathartic. Not to mention his secret—just another of many I had to carry. I hoped it wouldn't come up. I'd be happiest if we could just avoid it.

Regardless of all of that, Cass had been right. I felt like new. He, on the other hand? As I followed him into our room and sat at the end of the bed with him, it seemed he'd really been through it.

"And _you _are looking like you've had a really hard day," I admitted. "Is _Denis_ asleep?"

"Yeah, restin' in bed," he said. "I put on his '_La vie en rose_,' that really calmed 'im down 'n got him to sleep, 'n then I sang to 'im."

He smiled softly. I was glad my recommendations were of some use.

"I'm guessin' you 'n Jess didn't have much luck wit' the DVD?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Another dead end," I explained. "He was upset. Kind of stormed off."

"I don't blame 'im, really, "Cass said. "This is important to 'im, y'know?"

"Yeah," I said. I knew better than anybody how much this mattered more than anything to him. "So much for this..."

I grabbed the disc out of my jacket pocket and placed it on the bed. Then I noticed Cass's eyes were fixed on it. He immediately picked it up, and opened the semi-opaque case.

"Ya seen this?" he asked.

There, emblazoned right on the disc was text reading, "Property of Grail Industries."

"Holy shit," I muttered, my mind running. "Good job, Cass."

"That mean anyt'in' to ya?"

"Not exactly," I said. "But at Circuit Works I saw the weirdest advertisement for them. Something about a great today for us and a great for tomorrow for them, over footage of a mushroom cloud? It was bizarre."

"That's a lead fer sure," Cass said, excitement creeping into his voice. "We should tell Jess."

"You call him," I suggested. "I don't think he wants to hear from me right now."

Cassidy nodded, and dialed Jesse, but he didn't pick up. Cass figured leaving a message would be the next best thing.

"Hey, Jess," Cass started, "uh, not sure where ya are, but we found a clue. Have ya heard o' somet'in' called Grail Industries? Well the disc came from them. Could be useful. Anyway, uh, t'ought ya should know. See ya soon."

He hung up and nodded. Something substantial had come from today after all.

"You did good, Cass," I told him, and he looked quite proud. "Anyway, what were you up to next, before I interrupted? Can I help?"

"Well, I was about to flush a bucket o' blood n' sick down the bog, but I'd like to keep that job away from ya, if ya don't mind."

"I appreciate it," I told him. "And after that?"

"After that, I'm free till he needs anyt'in' else," he said, with a little smile that told me he was very much looking forward to the break. "'N I'm so glad yer home."

"Mind if you catch me up while I help you rest your weary bones?" I asked.

"I'd like that," he answered, and after he completed his unsightly task in the bathroom, we sat on the couch together, little Banjo watching us from the floor.

Cass must have freshened up slightly, too, because he smelled much better—like smokey sandalwood—and I slid my hand into the back of his inner shirt to run my fingers along his skin with a firm, yet tender pressure.

"And before I forget..." Cass said, reaching under the coffee table to procure the manilla envelope I'd delivered earlier.

It had been roughly ripped open, and now Cass pulled out the very official-looking document. It was covered with line after line of dense text, but none of that really mattered to me but the bit that read our names: Mrs. Adelaide Cassidy and Mr. Proinsias Cassidy.

I don't know why, but it brought warm, happy tears to my eyes. This made our union feel _official_ official, and I adored that.

"I gotta say this was a very welcome surprise after a pretty shite day," he said. "Is it sappy to say I love bein' reminded I'm married to ya?"

"No," I answered, trying not to choke up. "It's sweet."

"But, God, I wish we could tell Jess 'n Tulip," he added.

"Me, too," I agreed wistfully.

"They're not exactly good right now, though, are they?" he asked.

"Not exactly."

The secrets and tension were only piling up, and the two were standing on even less common ground than usual. Maybe completing this mission would change that, but even that wasn't a sure thing.

"Then the secret's safe," Cass whispered. "I don't wanna add yet another ting fer them to fuss over. 'N we know plenty well how to be happy wit'out their say so."

He turned his head toward me, and I leaned in for his hard, firm, and wanting kiss.

His lips tasted mine, eager and hungry as a week's worth of thick stubble grazed my skin, and instantly I realized how badly I needed him. Under his shirt, my hands found his chest as his lips never separated from mine, and the longing inside me grew.

When our lips did part, I felt sheepish.

"Is there... time?" I asked him, almost panting.

"Yeah," Cass nodded urgently, "_Denis_ should be out cold, but just, uh, if he _does_ needs us, I wanna be able to hear..."

"So we do it right here," I suggested hastily.

"That alright wit' you?" Cass asked with a grin. "Someone could come home 'n catch us in the act."

"Yeah," I said, nodding quickly, breath fast as I used both hands to take off my shirt.

And then, remembering we were being observed, I snapped my fingers.

"Banjo? Room," I said, pointing to our bedroom in just my bra, and the dog happily obeyed, trotting off to give us our privacy.

After that, Cass stood quickly to get his pants and boxers down around his ankles. He was already very hard, his large erection ready as I, too, slid completely out of my bottoms. As he leaned back, providing me with a fabulous place to sit, I carefully placed my knees to either side of his legs on the couch cushions, lowering myself onto his strong cock.

I was already more than wet enough to take all of him, and I nestled my head over one of his shoulders, groaning into his ear as his girth completely filled me.

"God, I've missed this cock," I moaned as I rode him, gyrating on and off of him so that he touched every bit of the inside of me. I wished he could know how marvelous he felt.

"'N I've been tinkin' about ya all day," he exhaled between joyful grunts. "Now don't be shy. I wanna hear."

"Mmm," I moaned as I continued grinding on him. "We won't wake him?"

"Nope," he answered, and then let out a low, loud pleasured cry to prove it. God, I loved to hear him enjoy himself, and the mere sound of him drove me wild.

"Ohh, Cass," I called out, not holding back now. Each time I pushed down around his cock I let out a whimper of elation, each one growing more frenzied than the last.

"Ada, I wanna make ya cum," Cass called out. "What would ya like?"

I sat back up straight, then, and spread my knees out a little wider, giving him access to my tender clit.

"You know how I like it, Proinsias," I teased him, and as I twisted my hips while mounting him, he reached out with his slender middle finger to gently touch my most delicate spot.

He was an expert at this by now, working my clit in tiny, soft circles. His knowing contact made my wet pussy feel more sensitive, too, until the combination of that pressure and his thick cock filling me _just_ right became too much.

"I'm gonna cum," I warned him, "oh fuck, oh fuck, I'm cumming," and it was bliss to let it all out, to moan out loud with every delicious sound I needed to make as I rode out this magnificent orgasm, Cass's skilled caress complementing every thrust of my hips until the wave subsided, and he placed his hands to cup each cheek of my ass.

He pressed his lips again to mine, and this time, I knew he really didn't want our kiss to end. With his sturdy hands, he lifted me and then pushed me all the way back down on his throbbing shaft, causing us both to gasp into each other's mouths. He did it again, and again, so hard and so strong I could barely contain myself. I found myself opening my eyes and staring straight into his, hazel and soft and caring, and in that moment I felt all the love he had for me, and saw so much of his pain had melted away. And there was something else, too

_Cum for me_, I thought, never unlocking our lips as I stared into him. With the next thrust of my body on his, I tasted his full climactic moan, and I watched his body tense and then loosen as he came inside me, pulling me down onto him a last few times to finish completely, each little grunt he made music to my ears. At last, our lips parted.

I leaned forward on him when it was over, panting and sweaty but so content. He held me close to him, and I could feel his rushed heartbeat.

"Y'know I couldn't be a happier husband," he muttered, slightly dazed.

"And I couldn't be a happier wife," I answered.

"Now let's get ya cleaned up," he smiled.

The dismount was slightly messy, but we figured it out, and we found ourselves giggling as we made our way to the bathroom. Cass washed himself up before insisting I take a full shower. I did so happily, the fresh, hot water boosting my relaxed mood even further.

When I was done showering, I changed into clean pajamas, retrieved Banjo after giving him a little bone-shaped treat for good behavior, and joined Cass back in the living room. He'd checked on Denis, who was still in a drug-enhanced sleep. Now, he was basking in our moment of happiness, and looking much better than he had when I'd gotten home.

Cass then urged me to take the marriage certificate and put it in a safe place (away from prying eyes, as well as any potential collateral damage) and when I returned, it was finally time to hear about the day's ordeals.

All of this business had started early in the morning, Cass explained, just after he'd carried me off to bed. Even on his oxygen, Denis had been wheezing quite badly in his sleep. Cass had felt slightly helpless about it, but he'd tucked Denis in and headed to the kitchen to clear his mind and get a glass of water.

It was past 2:30, but Tulip was still up, too.The nightmares, again. She was flipping through a French magazine she couldn’t read, and instead of answering any of Cassidy's questions about how she was, she had been completely fixated on replacing the fridge.

"Is that when you told her to drink rat poison?" I asked.

"It's called a Celtic Sandman, and it was me ma's recipe, alright?" he answered. "Works like a dream. Or the lack o' one, in this case."

"Alright, alright," I told him. "Go on."

And he did. After refusing his offer, Tulip had invited him out to the Hurt Locker again. He couldn't. He had Denis to look after, of course, but he also didn't think he'd be welcomed back in as quickly as Tulip. He said Tulip had told him she'd be going to bed, but headed out immediately after that. She'd been out all night, and hadn't come home until Jess and I ran into her on our way out today.

Cass had come back out to the living room to rest next to Denis, but once he'd dozed off, he awoke to his son begging him to bite him, again and again and again. He'd gotten up to hold Denis, and tell him to calm down and that he was watching after him, but Denis had pushed him away angrily before having a painful coughing fit. He'd been forced to lay back down in surrender. Then, with far too much on his mind, Cass had eventually been able to get a little rest.

This morning, he'd been relieved when the doctor showed up. He hoped he'd be able to make Denis at least a little better. The doc didn't speak English, but Cass had been able to talk to him a little in French. Things weren't good.

That's when Jesse and I saw him. Unfortunately, Genesis hadn't seemed to do much for Denis, if anything. Maybe it worked slow, or maybe it really _didn't_ workat all for situations like these. Either way, he was grateful Jesse had even given it a shot—well, that I'd stepped in and guilted him into it. We had to try whatever we could.

After we'd left for Circuit Works, Denis had taken a turn for the worse and started coughing up the blood. Cass said that was the hardest thing. He was really hurting. But Cass couldn't do much but keep him on his medicine, contain the mess and try to keep him comfortable. At least his drugs helped him sleep.

It didn't take too long after that for Tulip to return with the fancy new fridge. For whatever reason, she seemed proud of it, like its being there took some kind of weight off her shoulders. They'd spoken as she moved everything into the new fridge.

Cass had a lot on his mind—too much to keep to himself—and he'd wanted to test the waters. He asked Tulip if she'd ever want to be a vampire.

He wasn't sure he learned anything from her reactions. She thought it'd be "cool," but a lot of the ideas she had about it, like never getting hurt or scared, weren't really parts of the deal.

The eternal life and healing were what caught her interest. She wasn't thinking about the rest of what it actually implied. She might not have been in a position to think about _anything_ very seriously, given how tired she must have been. When that conversation ended, she left with a scraper and a tub of spackling putty, and she still hadn't returned.

"And Ada," Cass suddenly interrupted his story, "How do you feel about the beach?"

"I don't love it," I answered honestly.

"What? Why not?"

"Well, not to quote Anakin Skywalker, but sand sucks," I answered. "And the bottoms of my feet are dainty. I hate burning my soles, cutting 'em on bits of shell and broken glass..."

"But the _ocean," _he pined.

"Well yeah, the ocean is a beautiful thing," I said, "but you don't actually have to be at the beach to soak it in. I know you've never seen the Pacific Ocean, but the dawn view from the cliffsides can be pretty majestic."

"Ya sure ya won't miss certain tings?" he asked. "Like watchin' the sunset, takin' a sunny stroll?"

"I'm more of a nightime, rainy day gal, really," I said. "And I mean, we could still do most of those things. We'd just have to take the right precautions. You've shown me what you can do. We're both clever. We could figure it out. And look—when all this is over, we'll go. Any beach you choose. We'll do it safe. It won't be quite like the summer Sundays with your ma back in the day, but we'll make it really special, okay?"

"I'd love that," he said. "I was tellin' Tulip I don't remember the last time I went."

"Well that's no good," I said. "When the time comes, this'll be a visit you won't ever forget."

"I don't know how ya do it Adelaide," he said. "I've been pissin' n' moanin' about this shite fer more 'n a century now, 'n you make it sound not quite so bad..."

"Well, living forever might not sound so good if I didn't know you'd be right there with me," I said.

"Fair," he smiled, but the smile faded fast. "_Denis_ wouldn't have that. I don't tink he has friends. Girlfriends. All 'e does is watch TV, and even then I don't know if he really enjoys that."

"Maybe it's his health," I pondered, "and he can't do the things he used to?"

Cass shook his head.

"I can ask him, next time he's up, if he's willin' to tell me," he said. "Last time was pretty bad, with the blood and the pukin'. Tried to get him to drink a bit o' ginger ale, settle 'is stomach. And... Jaysis, I forgot to tell ya. He spoke English."

"What?" I asked in disbelief. "What did he say?"

Cassidy's face was very grave.

"He said, 'Papa, please.'"

"Jesus, Cass..."

"I just wish the answer was obvious, y'know?" he sighed. "I don't tink he'd be happy to be like me. Not really, after the novelty wore t'in. 'N I don't know if I can trust 'im, neither. But what's the alternative? I'm _not_ leavin' 'im, I _can't_. So it's spendin' weeks, maybe months, watchin' 'im slowly get worse n' worse. I'm not sure I can lose 'im like that... and I'm afraid I'm not strong enough to keep 'im from forcin' me hand."

"Hey," I whispered. "You _are_ strong enough. You've managed, you've _survived_, for 119 years. And if you can't do what needs to be done by yourself, I am _never_ going to leave your side. Remember that."

"T'ank you. T'ank you so much," he said. "God, while you were out I was even considerin'..."

Then he paused with a sudden realization.

"Have I told ya about Seamus at all?"

"No," I answered. "Who's that?"

"It's a long story..."

"When has that ever been an issue?" I she'd him before he grinned and continued.

"I guess fer a while, you could say he was me best mate," Cass explained. "It was, I dunno, maybe '83, '84 when I met him. I'd been fuckin' around in Chicago, not doin' much but drinkin' away all me earnin's at some Irish pub, and I meet this lad, actin' like he owns the place even though he can't be older'n 19 or 20.

"Anyhow, the feller tells me the English pub round the corner has had the audacity to nick this place's prized possession—a ship wheel belongin' to a prized Irish galley captained by Grace O’Malley herself back in the 16th century. It was this great travesty, he explained, and I t'ought so, too. So we conspired together to steal it back. Just a smash n' grab, simple shite, and absolutely wort' it to restore balance, y'know. Good fun, too.

"Ting is, only after the fact do I learn 'e made up the whole ting. The wheel's not Irish, not even an antique. He just liked it, 'n t'ought it'd look better in our pub. And it did—even if it mostly had to be hidden from view to prevent retaliation 'n that. They eventually came back for it, I got the piss beat outta me. But it didn't matter. Point is, I was cravin' a little excitement in me life, he saw that, 'n we became fast friends.

"We were inseparable after that. Best friends, 'n partners in crime. He was the idea guy, working out details and specifics, and I got shit done. He liked that I was up fer anyt'in'. I didn't scare easily, so high risk jobs didn't worry me none. If I had to do a bit o' time here n' there, no big deal. We made quite a bit o'money doin' that.

"But I wasn't good wit' me cash—never have been—and as time passed, he got wise n' started seein' 'imself as the grownup, y'know? He put 'imself in charge and started bossin' me around, took control of me finances. He said it was fer my sake, but I couldn't be too sure. I started to wonder whether he was really lookin' out fer me, or just usin' me because of what I could do. Takin' advantage of me trust.

"'N it didn't take him too many years to realize what I was. The sunlight ting obviously raised his suspicions, but as the time passed, 'n I always stayed the same, he figured it out.

"And I _am_ grateful fer him, in a way. He's the one who came up with the idea to bribe hospitals to conjure fake birth certificates, y'know. Every 20 years or so, I get a new one for me 'son' wit' a new social security card, so I can get passports 'n ID, no questions asked. Almost live like normal..."

I remembered Cass's driver's license, which listed his birth year as 1989 and it all started to make sense.

"But he was bad fer me, too. He knew I could be tempted, by drugs or blood, got me to do tings I'm not proud of. Got me plenty hurt, too, knowin' me body could take it. Not that I'm innocent or not'in', but he pushed me in the wrong direction. It's his bloody fault the vampire hunters ever even knew about me. And that got me paranoid, as well. Was he sendin' them after me to keep me dependent? Cos it always seemed they showed up right when the lead was gettin' too loose...

"Tings kinda came to a head durin' this one job. The mark was this bigwig jeweler. Stealin' his valuables would be easy enough, but Seamus told he was traffickin' women on the side, too, knew that'd drive me to step in 'n stop 'im—permanently, y'know. Only once I've ripped his fuckin' t'roat out do I learn the whole ting was made up. The man was shaggin' Seamus's wife—I didn't even know he _had_ a wife—and this vindictive bastard sent me in to do 'is dirty work. I chewed him out, but what could I _really_ do? I kinda gave up. Mostly walked away. But he still had his grasp on me.

"Anyway, we grew apart, over time, 'n I'm glad. Jaysis, he's gotta be 50-somethin' by now. But I still relied on 'im fer far too long. Y'know, when I crash-landed in Annville, he canceled all me credit cards before I even got the chance to do it meself. All in fear it'd lead the slayers to me. I was stranded. No cash, nowhere to live. And I s'pose that's another reason I have to be grateful fer him. Because if I wasn't left with no option but to live in a bleedin' church attic, I might have never met ya.

"And, God, havin' you, Adelaide, means I'll never have to rely on 'im again. He's not makin' the calls fer me no more. The last mont' 'n a half, I've t'ought about 'im less than I have in the last 30 years. It's like startin' over. And ya don't know how freein' that is."

The heavy weight that had been building on me as he told his story suddenly felt like it'd lifted. I'd been holding tears back, and now a few of them fell. Cassidy had dealt with more than I could imagine, and I was so ready to help him move forward and leave all of that behind.

I moved in closer and gave him a kiss, his lips warm and soft and trembling gently. He kissed me back, and somehow he felt slightly lighter, more joyful even despite his lingering dilemma. I took pride in that.

"You bear so many burdens, Proinsias," I told him when our lips parted. "Just remember you don't have to carry the whole load by yourself."

"I will," he promised. "But look, I'm not sure why, but even now, I was tinkin' about givin' Seamus a ring, askin' him to weigh in the _Denis_ ting. Is that daft?"

"It's not," I whispered to him.

"But _why_ isn't it?" he asked.

"I know it sounds weird, but, for me, sometimes hearing something you want to hear—or don't—from someone you're at odds with really helps you sort out your own feelings about it. Helps you nail down what your gut is telling you."

That seemed to make some sense to him.

"Alright," he said. "But can ya stay here wit' me? I need ya. That, 'n I wanna get yer second opinion."

"Of course," I answered. "You can even put it on speaker. He'll never know."

And then he dialed, and put on the speaker phone and put the phone down on the coffee table. It rang a couple of times before someone picked up and a gruff, Irish-accented voice answered.

"What?" Seamus demanded.

"Hey, it's Proinsias," Cass answered.

I'd never heard him use his first name with anyone else. He must have really trusted him, once. My heart hurt for him.

"What do you want?" Seamus asked. "Money?"

"Ah, it's good to hear your voice, Seamus," Cass tried to keep things cordial.

"I've no patience for your dancin' about," Seamus answered impatiently. "How much this time?"

"I'm not lookin' fer yer handouts," Cass corrected. I wouldn't have been so patient with his tone. In fact, I wanted to give him a piece of my mind.

"Oh, no?" Seamus askedwith a laugh. "Then what?"

"I have a son," Cass told him.

"And I imagine you have dozens, but congratulations."

Again with the tone. I found myself hating him.

"No, it's not like that," Cass explained. "Look, _Denis_ is not new, alright? He's old. And he's sick."

Seamus sighed on the other line.

"How well do you know him?"

"I just told you he's me son, didn't I?" Cass said, his tone getting defensive.

"You know what I'm askin'," Seamus said. "What's he like? What's his prevailing temperament? How well do you know him, Proinsias?"

"I know that he's dyin', Seamus, alright?" Cass retorted. "I know that much."

There was a brief silence, and then...

"Don't do it," Seamus answered. "Let him die."

And with that, Seamus hung up. Cass could only stare at the phone on the table, taking deep breaths. I reached out for his hand with mine, and he took it and squeezed it tight.

"I hate that he's right," Cass finally uttered. As unpleasant as the call was, at least it made that clear to him. "And I still might change me mind but... I tink that's where I am right now."

"I think you're right, too, Cass," I said, my eyes teary. I wished this didn't have to be this hard. "Maybe something will change. But for now..."

"We've just gotta make sure the life 'e has left isn't complete misery," he said.

I nodded in agreement, and then put my arms around him and squeezed. If I could lend him an ounce of my willpower, it was all his.

We quietly dragged a couple of chairs into Denis's bedroom to set up there for the night. He was sat upright, and his sleeping breaths were fast and strained.

Cass was closer to him, and he placed one of his hands on Denis's, which were clasped in his lap. He then began to sing the beautiful, yet scandalously worded ditty I'd overheard the night before, causing Denis to wake for a second, a gentle, hopeful look spreading across his face as he sang.

"_Je t'aime Denis_," Cassidy whispered when his singing had concluded, telling his son he loved him.

"Thank you, Papa," Denis murmured softly in response before drifting off to sleep.

I couldn't stop thinking about the little tune. Everything about the melody suited Cass so well. His voice melted my heart, and Denis appeared to react well, his breaths appearing deeper and more relaxed in his slumber. I could see how much that meant to Cass.

"What's that song?" I asked in a whisper.

"Just an old Irish folk song," he answered quietly. "It was the first ting I sung to 'im after he was born. He always liked it. I guess I've been tinkin' about it. Tings comin' full circle 'n that."

"Well it's gorgeous," I told him, "and it'll always be part of what you and _Denis_ had."

"Right," he laughed gently, but it was a sad laugh. Then he sighed. "If I'd just done this right the first time around, been the good da I promised I'd be, actually gotten to know 'im, maybe this wouldn't be so hard."

"What's done is done," I said. "And this would be hard no matter what. But at least we can deal with it together, right?"

He nodded, and even smiled a little. And though Denis didn't wake at all that night, we both stayed up with him as long as we could, watching over him, and remembering him. Because whether we'd lose him soon or he was about to begin his second life, things were about to irrevocably change for us forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say, again, from the bottom of my heart, that I SO much appreciate every single one of you who's reading this, and coming back every week to check in on the story. It means a lot to me, and your encouragement is such a huge driver in keeping me engaged with writing more of it every week!
> 
> Please love a comment if you feel inclined, and I hope you enjoy the next one. Things are about to get pretty intense.


	40. Invasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Intruders invade Denis's apartment, the gang gains new information that might change everything.

I was startled awake in my chair in Denis's room by high-pitched, urgent barking. I didn't recognize it at first—I wasn't even sure I'd heard Banjo bark before—but right now, he was absolutely frantic, and that sent my heart racing.

That's when Cassidy ran into the bedroom.

"Ada, go into our room. Hide under the bed. Take Banjo. Close the door behind ya," he ordered.

"Cass, what...?"

"_Now_," he whispered.

I obeyed as I saw him rush into the room and help a half-asleep, highly drugged Denis off the bed and into his own hiding place.

I made my way into our room as fast as I could, slamming the door behind me and grabbing a sheet to provide extra cover, cowering in the dust under the bed with my head running wild with what-ifs. Banjo cuddled up close. His warm presence helped me maintain my last thread of calm. Now, he managed to keep completely silent.

And then, over the noise of my heavy breath and thumping heartbeat, the calamity ensued.

By the sound of it, at least half a dozen men had infiltrated the place. There was shouting, and then gunfire followed by screams. Then snarling, and more shouting, and I swear I heard a man scream that he'd been bitten.

As terrified as I was, at least I could rest assured in that respect. It was the dead of night, and I knew Cass could handle anything that was thrown at him. Whoever these people were, they'd come looking for a fight, and Cass was more than ready to dish it back at them. It was the rest of us that I had to worry about.

Banjo scooted even closer to me now, and I took him in my arms and held him close, stroking him with one hand. I don't know if the little guy even understood he had warned us of this danger, but he might prove to save our lives.

Suddenly, I flinched at the sound of additional rapid gunshots. What the hell might be going on out there?

I heard chatter over walkie talkies, but couldn't make out what was being said, and then there was a brawl outside the next room. Not shots fired, but flailing fists, hitting _hard_ over the sound of grunts, and shouts.

But what I heard after that was unmistakable.

"**_Kill your friends_**," Jesse commanded, and I knew what had to come next.

What followed sounded like begging, and then a pleading apology, before another loud gunshot rang off in the apartment. Then more. God, the living room must be a bloodbath by now.

I heard more muffled talking and then...

"**_Drop it. Come here_**."

That's when I heard the bedroom door fly open. Every muscle and nerve in my body tensed for a fraction of a second before the dog happily skittered out from under the bed, and Cassidy spoke.

"Ada, Ada?" he called my name, a somewhat frantic edge to his voice. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, Cass," I answered, still concealed.

"It's safe to come out now," he said, his voice strained. "But be warned, it's kinda gruesome out here. Me included."

I crawled out from under the bed, tossing away the blanket, to see Cass standing there in the doorway.

Blood covered his face and shone between the cracks of his teeth, as well as in a wide, wet stain across his stomach. He clutched at his gut carefully as the blood gushed, and suddenly I got the feeling that his insides might not _stay_ inside if he wasn't careful. My own stomach lurched at the thought.

He must have been in agonizing pain, but he hid it well. I had to remind myself he'd be okay. Technically, he wasn't in danger.

I approached, but didn't dare hold him. I didn't want to make things worse.

"Cass, you _need_ blood," I begged him. "Let me get you up some from the freezer..."

"It's okay," he shook his head. "In a minute."

"What the hell happened out there?"

"We were attacked," he said. "Other than that, no idea."

He turned and exited the room, Banjo following in his footsteps, and I wondered what could be so important to put off healing. I could only hope the adrenaline coursing through his veins was aiding him.

I stepped outside to see him enter Jesse and Tulip's room. Then it hit me. Before tending to himself, he made it a priority to check on the others. That was just Cass.

When I caught up, Tulip was sleeping peacefully under the covers, to my great surprise.

"She slept through all of that?" I wondered aloud. The cacophony had been impossible to ignore. "I would have bet she'd be out there fighting right there with you."

"Jess made her sleep," Cass said. "With the Word."

That made sense, but Christ, was he being flippant with it. I hoped my request for Denis hadn't opened up some kind of floodgate.

We made our way together to Denis's room next. I should have known something was wrong when Banjo stopped in his tracks in the hallway a few feet from the room, refusing to step any further. But I couldn't have known what'd come next.

The second Cass opened the door, he shouted and disappeared into the room.

"_Denis_? _Denis_!" he shouted his son's name. "Fuck, oh Christ, no..."

I rushed in to find him huddled on the ground, gently crying over Denis, who laid there immobile, open-eyed, mouth agape and lifeless, a pool of dark blood centered on his nightshirt.

I had to turn my head away and felt sick to my stomach again, like I'd just been sucker punched right in the belly. My chest tightened with dread and a pounding pressure built up in my skull. I couldn't think straight as my own tears fell, and all I could do was crouch down next to Cassidy and touch his back to let him know I was here.

"I didn't tink... He must've..." he was rambling as he shook his head, lost.

It appeared he'd crept out from the secrecy of the space under his bed. Whoever did this found him there on the floor and... I didn't want to think about it.

"Shhhh," I tried to calm Cass through my tears, though I was nowhere near that emotion myself. "We couldn't have known. We did everything we could for him."

"Not... everything," he said with a big exhale. "Maybe..."

"Hey, no maybes," I said. "His pain's ended, okay?"

I couldn't let him start going down that path. Not when he was vulnerable like this.

I couldn't imagine how much this hurt. The two hadn't mended things, but they were on the path, and to have that ripped away right now felt impossibly cruel.

At the same time, Cassidy's injury was growing more impossible to ignore, and I wasn't sure I could handle watching his intestines unravel out of him.

"Proinsias, you shouldn't be dealing with this in your current state," I told him, making my voice as strong as I could. "You need blood, like _right_ now. Stay here with _Denis_ if you need to, but I'm gonna go warm some up for you, okay?"

He turned to me, and nodded, and then pressed his bloody hand to his stomach again, remembering how hurt he really was.

"I love you," he squeaked. "T'ank you."

"I love you, too," I reminded him. "I'll try not to take long, okay?"

I left the room and Banjo rejoined me from the hall as I made my way to the living room. I'd nearly forgotten I should be expecting a slaughterhouse, unprepared for the piles of bodies littering the place. It made the shock even more stark.

Each one was dressed in tactical gear, colored white from the night vision goggles on their heads down to their boots, and stained red with their own blood—and maybe a bit of Cassidy's as well. Something about this seemed familiar. Some had been bitten. Others shot.

All but one of them were dead, and Jesse appeared to be interrogating the survivor in the kitchen. He held his helmet between his hands on his lap as he sat in a dining chair, frozen. They both stopped to look at me as I stepped in.

"They killed _Denis_," I sniffed. "I just gotta... Just gotta get some blood for Cass."

I was trying my best to keep it together and not get in the way as I washed my hands and grabbed four bags from the freezer. Three went in the fridge for later, and I brought the other with me.

My hands trembling, I found a saucepan in the cupboards above the sink, placed it over a burner at low heat and sliced open the frozen bag to pour in its bloody contents.

"Ada, I'm so sorry," Jesse said. "I'll handle it. The bodies, _Denis_. All of it."

But his voice didn't convey much sympathy. He had bigger fish to fry, and was already on to the next thought.

"But you gotta hear this." He turned to the soldier in white. "**_Tell her who you work for_**," he ordered.

"The Grail," he blurted out, against his will.

"Like...?" I began to ask.

"Like Grail _Industries_," Jesse finished with excitement. "Cass told me about what you found. He says it's a religious organization, preparing the world for the return of Christ himself."

Then it clicked.

"The men in white, who attacked you in town?" I asked.

"Exactly," Jesse answered.

Things were coming together for him, and he had an almost maniacal air.

"So they came here keep a lid on the God thing?" I wondered aloud.

"Haven't gotten there yet," Jesse answered, but he wasn't going to leave that question hanging for long. "**_Why did you attack us?_**"

"Order from Samson Unit," the man answered, terrified. "We were ordered to kill you all."

"**_What's Samson Unit? Why?_**" Jesse demanded.

"They handle threats to Christ's throne," he explained. "False prophets. I didn't know the details but... your power. Now I see."

Oh God. Someone at this all-powerful organization knew about Genesis, somehow. With whatever resources this group had, that couldn't be good. And yet, too much of my mental capacity was devoted to hoping this wouldn't immediately go to Jesse's head.

It was too much to absorb right now. I tried to focus on the task at hand, stirring the melting hunk of icy blood with a wooden spoon. The smell of it made me slightly queasy, but I kept on. I attempted to imagine it was soup. Just tomato soup.

"**_Where's God?_**" barked Jesse next.

It took the soldier a second to answer this time.

"In... in heaven?" he stammered. "What do you mean?"

It was clear he didn't know anything about that. Not a high enough pay grade, likely. So Jesse took another tack.

"**_Can you take me to Grail headquarters?_**" he tried this time.

"No," he answered. "I know it's here—New Orleans, somewhere—but I don't know more than that."

"**_What do you mean?_**"

"I'm still new," he admitted. "I haven't earned their confidence yet. I get picked up from home in a windowless van, or they throw a bag over my head before they take me anywhere."

"**_Contact your people_**," Jesse commanded, and the poor guy nodded, quivering, as he put his helmet break on and spoke into his headset.

"Come in, Abdiel Six," he said, his voice suddenly clear and confident.

The look of recognition in his face made it clear he'd gotten them on the other line. But as he listened, his expression got more frightened. Defeated, even. Finally he took the helmet back off.

"**_What?"_**

"They cut off my comms," he whimpered. "They won't risk your power influencing the organization. I... please don't kill me."

"I won't kill you," Jesse told him. "At least, not yet. Not until I know what we're dealing with. **_What's next?_**"

"I don't know," the man admitted, desperate. "We've never been compromised like this. But I'd expect retribution. More of us. Bigger artillery."

"Alright," Jesse said. "So we prepare for a battle. **_Stay here and shut up_**."

And with that, Jesse exited the kitchen, leaving the white-clad soldier sitting alone, and panicked, but completely silent as I continued to stir a pan of warming blood.

I felt bad for him, nearly, and then remembered his crew had killed Denis, and could have gotten the rest of us, too. I knew he couldn't hurt me, but I still kept my guard up. I didn't like that I wanted something horrible to happen to him, and I hated feeling like I was being watched. I'd have to do my best to ignore him.

I had to remember why I was here. I was helping Cass. I had a job to do. I needed to focus. I could do this.

That was when Banjo brushed against my legs, stepping between them in a figure eight as if trying to ground me. He was a very special boy.

"Thank you, Banjo," I told him, and he wagged his tail contently. "You've done good tonight, buddy."

I knew he didn't understand—not really—but pretending he did made me feel a little better.

And by now, I'd nearly convinced myself the warming liquid _was _just a little pan of tomato soup. The metallic scent was the unfortunate giveaway.

Then, I suddenly realized I was so hungry my stomach ached sharply. That happened sometimes when I was up at unusual hours, and then all I could think about was making grilled cheese. Maybe Cass would want one, too, along with his soup. I was probably rattled, but this meant all the sense in the world to me.

Out came a skillet, and the butter and bread and American singles, and I watched as the pat of butter I tossed in the pan melted and sizzled over an adjacent burner. I now had difficulty concentrating on anything else.

In went four buttered slices of bread, two topped with the orangey-yellow cheese slices, and they made a satisfying hiss when they hit, the smell of bubbling butter filling the air and nearly masking the fragrance of warming blood.

I folded another single in half twice and bent down on a knee, offering it up to Banjo. He looked at it hungrily, but held himself back from grabbing it, as if waiting for permission.

"Go ahead," I told him. "You've earned it."

Then he snatched it up, chomping down on it with his sharp little teeth, before he tossed his head back a little and it disappeared. I gave him a scratch between the ears, causing him to close his eyes contently, before it was time to wash my hands and return to the food. He really deserved all the scratches in the world.

I continued to stir the pot as the buttered bread browned. The "soup" was definitely getting there, nearly warm now.

With a spatula, I flipped the naked breads onto the cheesy ones, and pressed down hard on them to get the outsides nice and crispy, and then they were finished. Something about completing this small task helped me feel human again.

I put one sandwich each on two small, round ceramic plates, and cut them across diagonally into long triangles.

My attention turned back now to the contents of the pot. I dipped my pinkie in to test the temperature. It was nice and hot, but far short of boiling. That was good.

I almost absentmindedly tasted the red liquid coating my finger before realizing what I was doing, and a shiver took over my body. This should be good enough.

I washed my hands clean, once more, poured the contents of the saucepan into a bowl, and grabbed a spoon for good measure. Denis was—had been—an old-fashioned guy, and I was thankful he had serving trays so I could bring it all to Cass at once.

Cassidy. I'd left him on his own too long already. I didn't like that.

I was in too much of a rush coming back for him, and my hands were unsteady with the tray bringing him his healing meal.

When I got to the room—Banjo refusing to enter yet again—Cass was sitting over Denis's body, which he'd lifted back onto the bed. Now Denis's eyes and mouth were closed, and his hands were crossed peacefully in front of him.

Cassidy looked like he'd cried for a while, but his red, puffy eyes had now been dry for a moment as they continued to stare down at the body.

"Hey, Cass," I said gently, and when he finally looked up at me, something within him lit up.

"You really are a sight fer sore eyes, Adelaide," he said. "What's all this?"

"I, uh—well the blood reminded me of tomato soup and I wound up making grilled cheese?" I shrugged.

"Ada, that's..." and then fresh, hot tears welled in his eyes, and he had difficulty continuing. "I'm sorry. That's very t'oughtful, 'n I'm in a bit of a state."

I was already at a pretty heightened mindset myself, and the sight of him crying again got me worked up, too. I had to fight sobs to get out my words.

"Don't be sorry," I gulped. "You wanna... you wanna maybe eat elsewhere, pretend things are normal for a second?"

He nodded slowly.

"Is it alright if we avoid the topic o'..." He didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't have to. "I just need some time fer it all to sink in."

"_Anything_ you need to do right now is okay," I assured him.

Then, still holding in the contents of his gut, he exited the room with me.

With the man in the kitchen, and the pile of corpses in the living room, our bedroom was the best option for trying to act like everything hadn't gone to hell.

Banjo had already retreated to the room and fallen asleep yet again at the edge of the bed. I'd forgotten how late it was—probably about 4 a.m. by now. And with a belly full of cheese, he had every right to be sleepy.

Once we sat, Cass lifted the bowl with one hand and guzzled down the blood, trying not to let any drip down his face. I didn't understand it, but while heating the stuff up had disgusted me, watching him drink seemed so natural. It was just the way of the world, and all my squeamishness around it had disappeared.

As he downed the last drops, an apologetic look spread over his face.

"Sorry, love," he said. "You prepare me this lovely meal, 'n I eat it like a bloody Neanderthal."

"I don't mind," I promised. "Do whatever you gotta do to help you heal."

"T'ank you fer always understandin'," he answered.

"Of course," I said. "But is... is that gonna be enough blood?"

His injuries were extensive this time—worse than I'd ever seen, and even after this whole pint of blood, glancing too much at the gaping wound beneath his hand made me feel light-headed.

"They really got me bad this time," he explained. "Pretty sure I'm missin' about half the internal organs in this general area. Pancreas 'n spleen 'n that take time to grow back, no matter how much blood ya got. I got to feed out there a bit, fresh 'n live—you saw—but I gotta pace meself. I'll have more in the mornin', and t'roughout the day. Should be whole in a coupla days' time."

"I stuck a few in the fridge for you," I said. "They should be thawed before too long."

"I appreciate ya so much, y'know that?"

I blushed. My head was still swirling with sadness, and anger and confusion, but it lifted me out of that slightly to know how much I mattered to him.

"The feeling's mutual," I whispered, teary. "Anyway, should we bandage you up? That's gotta hurt. There must be some morphine laying around with all these bottles, right?"

In fact, I knew Denis's room was lined with pills and capsules and drug solutions right now. It was bittersweet to know he'd no longer need them to dull his pain.

"Later wit' the bandages, yeah?" Cass said. "You cooked fer us. It's been a minute, 'n we should try to take in the little pleasures when we can, alright?"

He had a point. And I was still famished. The first big bite of my grilled cheese was everything I'd dreamed it would be—crispy and gooey and oh so buttery—and I was glad he'd insisted.

He also looked quite pleased, considering everything, as he dug into his own sandwich.

"I miss yer cookin', Ada," he said. "There's somethin' special about eatin' sometin' made wit' love, like."

"When things aren't so... like _this_, I promise I'll cook more," I told him as I ate. "But only if you promise to mix the drinks."

"That I can do," he smiled.

It was the first toothy, proper smile I'd seen from him since everything went down. The sight of it was so healing to me. The air still felt heavy with the night's events, but it was lightening.

And then something I'd been wondering about in the kitchen bounced back into my head.

"Can I ask you a weird question?" I posed. "Not to do with today, really. Just in general."

"O' course, love," he whispered with his mouth full after stuffing in the last big bite of sandwich.

"Does blood... taste better when it's warm?" I asked.

He thought for a moment before answering.

"I'd say it does," he said. "Not that drinkin' blood is really about the taste, but it feels more—aut'entic, I s'pose? But it can be good to have it cold. It's a little odd, so it reminds ya yer not supposed to indulge. Slows ya down. That 'n the cleanliness ting. If it's cold, ya can trust it hasn't been spoilin' in the sun all day."

"Have you ever tried to make it taste better?" I asked.

"How do you mean?"

"I dunno, like adding salt and pepper," I suggested as I took the last bite of my food. "Cream and cayenne and bayleaf. Tabasco. Or garlic—that'd be ironic, wouldn't it?"

"I mean, it's not a _terrible_ idea," he let out a tiny chuckle. "If yer goal is to get me to drink more blood, that is."

"How about a Bloody Mary with real blood?"

"Now yer temptin' the fates," he said with a smile. "Where the hell did all this come from, anyway?"

"Probably from pretending the blood was soup," I answered.

"Ya didn't taste it, did you?"

"Nearly," I answered. "By accident. I was kinda out of it for a sec there."

"Well it's far too early fer all that," he said. "Maybe someday, far in the future when tings have changed, we'll experiment."

"Fair," I said. "Now can we _please_ get you some drugs?"

"I don't know about that, Ada," he said, shaking his head. "Opiates, y'know, that's a slippery slope. And this house is teemin' wit' drugs right now, I don't tink it's wise to get back on my shit."

"So you're just going to deal with the pain of a missing stomach?" I asked incredulous.

"You've got like, Excedrin, right?" he asked. "Fer migraines?"

"Yeah..."

"Then that'll have to do," he answered, steadfastly.

So that's what we did. I fetched him those pain tablets and a glass of water, as well as a big roll of wrap bandage.

He took only the recommended two pills, downing them with the water, before I advised him to take off his T-shirt and the thin unbuttoned shirt he was wearing over it. Both were badly shredded and soaked with blood, and seeing him shirtless, I now witnessed just how bad the damage really was.

"Oh, Cass..." I said, the shock apparent in my voice.

"I know I look a fuckin' mess, right, but I've been t'rough worse."

I gave him a look. _Physically or mentally?_ I was thinking, but he'd asked me not to bring things up.

"I've been more hurt's what I mean," he added after a moment of thinking it over again himself.

I grabbed the bandages and stared at his bloodied body.

"Should you wash before we wrap you up?" I asked.

Only now could I see how filthy the whole ordeal had left him.

"No, no, no," he insisted. "I will, but after. I don't get infections, y'know, and I don't wanna take a bath next to me intestines, if ya get me meaning."

"Alright," I said, and I unfurled a bit of the long white bandage wrap from the roll.

As I placed the cut edge of the bandage behind his back, I asked him to hold it there before wrapping the strip around his lean stomach, again and again and again until all of the damage was hidden and contained. The tape stuck securely to itself, and before long, he was all wrapped in, still in pain but looking nearly normal, save the dirty mess of dried blood on his face and chest and lower belly.

"Like new," I joked when we were finished. "Now it's time you got cleaned up."

"If you insist," he said, the tiniest hint of a grin on his face, and we both headed off into the bathroom.

We figured a shallow bath would be best for him, and as steaming water poured into the tub, Cass washed blood from his face and neck at the sink. Next, I helped him get some plastic cling film around his bandages, and then he stripped down to nothing before stepping in and stretching out his legs, wriggling his toes. With the hot water rising to just below his stomach, he turned off the faucet, leaned back and sighed.

"This does feel nice," he said with an exhale.

I was digging around in the cabinet under the sink for something to help him wash with when I discovered a massive and puffy brown sponge sealed in plastic.

"Ya gonna give me a sponge bath?" he asked me, the corner of his mouth curling up into a smirk.

"You got a problem with that?" I asked.

"Well, yer not dressed as a nurse, but it'll do," he mused.

I freed the sponge from its packaging and sat at the edge of the tub, dipping the thick sponge in the water to get it sopping wet. Then I rubbed a fragrant green bar of soap against it, generating a musky lather. I brushed it against Cass's skin, below his bandages where the blood had caked on, to wash the dried brownish-red remnants away.

It struck me that the sponge was quite close to his groin, and though he was naked—and quite stunningly so—the thought of sex was so far away. This moment was intimate, yes, but not erotic. Maybe our hearts hurt too much for that to be the case. Still, just being close to him, and cleansing away the pain and hardships of the day, made me feel so close to him.

"I never did ask," Cass said, not quite relaxed but lounging as I bathed him, "did ya ever find out more about... well, what happened tonight?"

"You won't believe this," I told him as I focused on rubbing small, hard circles down his back with the sponge. "They were Grail Industries."

"Jaysis," he muttered. "They attacked us cos we found the audition tape?"

"No," I shook my head." Unrelated, I think. Somehow. More to do with Genesis being a threat to Jesus and their quest for world domination."

"Ah," Cass considered. "And these are the same fellers who came after Jess the first night he was here?"

"Seems like it," I answered, focusing on little bloody spots he missed around his neck. "The guy we have in the kitchen says they'll probably be back, too. Soon."

"Listen, Ada," he said, and I could hear his voice getting slightly stern on me. "Tings are gettin' dangerous, now, 'n maybe it's best ya go somewhere fer the time bein'. I've already lost..."

He paused, and took a second to speak again.

"Point is, yer safety is important to me."

"You're giving me the choice?" I asked.

"O' course."

"And you intend to stay here with Jesse to help?"

He nodded.

"Then I'm not going anywhere," I told him.

"I knew ya were gonna say that," he grinned.

"Are you disappointed?" I asked.

"No," he answered. "Relieved, actually. I don't know what I'd do if ya weren't here."

"I don't know, either," I said with a soft smile.

I wrung most of the water out of the sponge to focus now on his stained chest, careful not to drip too much onto his bandages. As the blood came away, beginning to dye the water a light rusty brown, I noticed something strange surrounding the raised, fleshy scar centered on his chest.

"Cass?" I questioned him.

"Yes, love?"

"Did you... shave your chest?"

He laughed.

"I did," he answered. "Kind of a spur o' the moment ting, last I showered. Couldn't tell ya why. Do ya hate it?"

"Not _hate_," I said. "The smooth look can be kinda sexy. But honestly, I think a chest full of hair is even sexier."

"Noted," he smiled. "I'll need to make a list o' all her turn-ons one o' these days..."

Once I'd pretty much cleansed him from head to toe, he sighed another deep sigh and, reluctantly, knew it was time to get out.

He let the hot water drain, and I helped him steady himself as he rose. The pain must have been immense—I could just see it in his eyes—but he didn't wince or complain. He was toughing it out, avoiding the hard drugs, for _me_, and I wasn't going to take that sacrifice for granted.

I grabbed him a clean towel, and peeled off the clingy plastic that had kept his bandages good and dry. He wrapped it around his waist, and as he leaned on me for support, we hobbled together, past the bloodied bodies in white, to our room.

"What the hell are we supposed to do about all this?" Cass wondered.

"Jess said he'd deal with it," I told him. "The men and..."

I didn't have the heart to bring up Denis, but he seemed to catch my drift.

When we got to the room, he put on pajama pants. I pulled back the sheet on Cass's side and he laid down, concealing a groan.

"Y'know I'll have to return the favor one o' these days," he told me as I got in bed beside him. "Give ya the bathin' of yer life."

"Is that so?" I asked him with a little smile.

The experience had soothed him somewhat, it seemed. He wasn't back to his regular self—healing would undoubtedly take time—but he was managing okay.

"Mmhmmm," he affirmed.

Then he motioned for me to come closer to him. I did, resting my head and a hand on his sleek chest. It was good to be close to him, and I hated that his wound prevented me from giving him an all-encompassing bear hug.

His heartbeat was a little fast, but strong and steady. I could feel my own syncing with his as he breathed. It was quietly hypnotic, and I soon realized how exhausted I was as it lulled me nearer and nearer to sleep.

It jarred me, then, when his breath hitched slightly. I could feel the tension build in his chest as his tears returned. I reached out for his hand, holding it in both of mind, pulling it in to feel my own steady heartbeat.

"Hey. I love you," I reminded him. "If there's anything I can do for you at all, Proinsias, I'm right here."

"I love you," he replied with a sniffle. "And I know ya are, _mo ghrá. _And right now, that means everyt'in' in the world to me. Please try to rest. Cos it sounds like we might have a fight comin'."

And, like it was a command, within a few moments, that's precisely what I did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for reading this far! I've promised some major changes to the story and they are ARRIVING. I hope you're on board and that you'll be engaged by what happens next, because things will continue to diverge. Some of this stuff is pretty tough, but it's ALL about making Cass less miserable in the long run...
> 
> If you're enjoying, I'd love to hear from you. Please leave a comment if you'd like to share what you're thinking, and stay tuned for the next one!


	41. Love Would Burn This City Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Cass and Ada recover from the shocking events of the night, Jesse recruits a squadron in preparation for retaliation.

The next morning, the house was bustling with activity. The sound startled me when it woke me, but the chatter outside our door seemed polite, and focused, and soon reassured me that the next assault hadn't begun.

That, and Banjo wasn't yipping his head off. It seemed he had a sixth sense about these types of things, and I'd come to trust him with my life. He was laid in Cassidy's lap, smartly avoiding the wounds as he rested. The dog seemed to know Cass needed all the love and warmth he could get right now.

Cassidy was still asleep, and by the worn, dark look around his closed eyes, it seemed he'd had a long, tearful night. I just wanted to keep him close, and safe, and I intended to be here when he woke.

I let him doze as I Iistened to what was happening just outside. I heard Jesse's voice, but couldn't make out his words. Then, a camera shutter clicked repeatedly. Someone was taking pictures. Crime scene investigators, maybe?

"**_You work for me now_**," Jesse's voice rang with a booming echo. There was no mistaking his words, or what he was using them for.

Whoever was out there, Jesse was pulling all the strings. So much for Genesis being _for_ something. He was abusing it now. I worried again about it going to his head, but if anything, today I dearly hoped it would get him results.

A lot had changed in the wee hours of the night. Maybe he would have a lead by now. This had cost us too much, but maybe our loss wouldn't be entirely in vain.

"Mornin', love," Cass groaned now, as he stretched. He sounded tired, and understandably down.

"You're awake," I smiled softly, leaning over to give him a tender kiss on the lips, lingering there until we were both satisfied. I think he needed it.

"Barely," he mumbled. "I didn't sleep too good."

"Then you should take it easy," I told him. "Get your bed rest. I can fetch your morning bag of blood, you take another round of your pain meds, and then we can just relax until we figure out what's next, alright?"

"That sounds grand," he said. Banjo moved as he rolled over with a pained grunt. "I'm gonna just rest me eyes a moment..."

"Hot or cold?" I asked him of the blood, like that was a normal question to pose to person.

"Cold's fine, tanks," he muttered, his face dug into the pillow.

I got up and headed for the kitchen, fully aware that Cass might be asleep again when I returned. Honestly, that might be for the best.

The place was still a disaster area, everything broken, and bloody, with a stack of bodies in the living room, but now cops swarmed the place, too. Folks with forensics kits, right out of _C.S.I_., were examining the scene while two cops lifted out the first of the bodies.

The photographer I'd heard earlier was in Denis's room now, and it made my skin crawl to hear more photos being taken. On TV, I didn't think twice about any of this stuff, but the reality of it chilled me to the core.

Tulip and Jesse were out here, too, Tulip looking very confused as Jesse waved around binoculars and coordinated with multiple teams, ordering them around in an attempt to get to the bottom of the situation.

"What the hell happened?" Tulip was asking him.

"Middle of the night, these men came here to kill us," Jesse explained. "They're not gonna stop. Next time, there'll be more, coming soon. But this time, we'll be ready for them." And then, like it was an afterthought, he added, "Good morning."

"Mornin'," Tulip answered, still confused as ever as Jesse marched to the window.

He peered out with his binoculars as cops checked in with each other over walkie-talkies. Her face conveyed a unique frustration, like she'd come out here with a very specific intention and now, she couldn't recall what it was for the life of her.

But she looked a lot happier upon spotting me.

"Mornin'!" she repeated, this time with a little smile.

I must have looked pretty shabby myself, because upon closer inspection of my face, her expression grew somber again.

"What's wrong?" she asked, instantly on alert. "Did somethin' happen?"

Jess hadn't told her.

"They, uh..." I tried to say it without getting too choked up, and failed. "They got _Denis_. He's gone."

Tulip's face scrunched, and then she practically ran into me, launching into a massive hug. Her tight grip on me was welcome asthe floodgates opened again, my tears falling as I held her back and released anything that might have been pent up over the course of the night. She flinched slightly at my touch—fresh bruises from the Hurt Locker, no doubt—so I handled her carefully.

I'd dearly needed the hug, and despised the fact that squeezing Cass too tight right now might undo a whole night's worth of healing.

"You okay?" she whispered in my ear, arms still thrown around me.

"Getting there," I answered. "Thank you."

She released her hold and let out a little exhale.

"And Cass?" she asked. "Jesus. I can't imagine..."

"We had a tough night," I told her. "Chances are we'll have more. He's hurt, too. Growing back organs. He needs blood."

"Well, shit, then I won't stop you," she said, pushing me along. "Get him his blood, we'll catch up later, 'kay?"

"Thank you, Tulip," I said again, and she disappeared back into her room.

From there, I moved into the kitchen. The stunned Grail soldier was still sitting up in his chair, watching on petrified as Jesse's wild scene unfolded. I wondered if Jesse kept him here now because he'd actually be useful, or just because her could. I was in and out of there as quickly as I could grab a bloodbag from the fridge.

Jesse caught me on the way back.

"Hey," he said. "Is Cass up? There's some stuff I need to say."

His tone was slightly more sympathetic this morning, but it was clear he was still consumed by the business at hand.

"He was a little earlier," I told him, "but no promises. He didn't sleep much."

"I understand," he said. "I'm so sorry."

"Thanks, Jess," I told him. He really did sound like he meant it this time.

I led him back to our room. Though Cass's eyes had appeared to be closed, they shot open as I stepped back in, bag of blood in hand.

I handed it to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek, sitting next to him on the bed as he pulled off a tube and started to drink, still fully reclined.

"Hey," Jesse peeked his head in, his voice quiet. "I just wanted to say, well I can't say how sorry I am about what happened. I... I feel responsible. And I know I can't turn back the clock, but I'm gonna do what I can to make this right, and protect you both. I owe you that, and probably a lot more."

Cassidy's eyes were wet.

"I appreciate that, padre," Cass answered, making a pained squeal as he sat up. "It's not yer fault. We never coulda known."

"But now we _do_ know," Jesse added, eagerly. "I got the police workin' for me. These Grail people are off the grid, no fingerprints in the system. There's no record of our friend Phil out there even existing—and he's not being much help, to be honest. But my guys are cleaning the place up, getting us ready. Because they're coming back. The men in white. I don't know how, but they're coming back. I've set 20 cops on the perimeter, so no one's getting in without us knowing. We're gonna get answers, Cass."

"That's good work, Jess," Cassidy told him. "Good watchin' out. So are we gonna _Home Alone_ this ting?"

"What?" Jesse asked.

"Ya know," Cass explained. "Use the home field advantage. Set booby traps. Flamin' doorknobs. Nails on the stairs. Tarantulas 'n that."

"No, Cass," Jesse sighed. "We're just gonna shoot 'em."

"Fair enough," grunted, sounding slightly disappointed. "When are they coming back, do you tink?"

"Well, they have resources, obviously," Jesse answered. "According to Phil, they want me pretty bad. I put money on them coming back tonight."

"Alright," Cass said.

"You gonna be ready?"

"I only got half an intestine. Missin' me bloody liver. But I got me meds, so..." Cass held up his half-drained packet of blood. "I'll do me best, alright?"

"I appreciate it," Jesse said. "And Ada, I was thinkin', maybe you and Tulip could get outta here, go somewhere safe until we figure this out?"

"Not on your life," I told him. "I'm not leaving Cass behind anytime soon. Maybe I won't be so useful when they get here, but until then, he needs me. And you know as well as I do that Tulip's not going anywhere, either."

"That's fair," Jesse answered, looking pleased to have me on board, before his expression grew more serious again.

He cleared his throat before he resumed.

"Anyway, Cass, uh," he hesitated, "I'm sorry if this is a tough question right now, and I don't want to rush the process or anything, but, well, did _Denis_ lay out any wishes for final arrangements?"

Cassidy shook his head.

"Uh, no," he answered with a trembly sigh. "Fair question, but no. Didn't really come up."

"Is that something that might be included in a will?" I asked. "If he has one?"

"It's possible, not guaranteed," Jesse said. "Did he have an executor, or..."

"No idea, padre," Cass answered, listless. "How would we find that out?"

"I think I have the means," Jesse smirked. "Leave it to me. Meantime, I was thinkin' we get his... we get _him _to the funeral home, for holdin', just 'till we know what to do?"

"That would be lovely, Jess," Cass told him. "T'anks fer that."

"In that case, I'll get everyone right on it," Jesse said. "Get this place cleaned up."

"We appreciate it," I told him.

"It's the least I can do," he said quietly. "And, uh, well, there are a lot of stray pharmaceuticals layin' around, if you wanted to help yourself, Cass?"

"Tanks but no tanks, padre," he answered without hesitation. "Tryin' to clean meself up a bit."

"Good man," Jesse said, and then excused himself.

That conversation really had drained all if the air out of the room. We both knew, and understood, that we'd lost Denis, but there was a grim finality in considering things like wills and funeral arrangements that made everything worse. Death was already horrible enough without administrative duties piled on top of it. And the impending attack was the awful cherry on top.

I knew Cass wasn't suited for any of it. He seemed stuck, speechless, as a million things must have been rushing through his head. I scooted closer to him and wrapped an arm around his, taking hishand and squeezing it tight.

"Got a lot on your mind?" I asked.

It was a dumb question, but I had to say something.

"Where do I start?" he said with a sad little laugh.

"You don't need to start if it's too much," I told him, holding him even tighter. "Look, no one should be saddled with this kind of responsibility. Not when they're feeling like this. Let's just get through today first, alright?"

"Just stay here wit' me," Cass whispered, carefully wrapping an arm around me. He was still healing, and I couldn't fully hold him back, but just feeling his presence here felt so necessary. "Help me keep me mind quiet."

I was more than happy to do that for him. I helped him lay back down fully, and then got back under the covers with him, leaning close to him and sharing his warmth, the dog resting between us as we tried to get ourselves back to equilibrium with deep, restorative breaths.

"Is there anything I can put on for you?" I asked. "We could watch a movie, or just talk?"

"Some music might be a nice distraction," he answered, and I obliged him.

I logged in on his phone and put my music on shuffle, tuning out the noise beyond our door, and we just laid there in the warmth of our room, listening and taking everything in.

Cass closed his eyes as he loosely held me, and I hoped he might get more sleep. I, on the other hand, felt like my mind was buzzing.

I became acutely aware that this was one of those times I felt the music was speaking to me, where the lines seemed too specific to be coincidence. Cass's silence made me wonder if he felt the same.

["_If I had a gun, I’d shoot a hole into the sun and love would burn this city down for you._"](https://youtube.com/watch?ob=av3e&v=1NMUDb3Ewhs)

As we listened, I found myself absentmindedly running my fingers over the bold letters and symbols inked across his right hand. They seemed to speak of troubled times. _Agony_. _Sink_ or _Swim_.

Now wasn't the time to dredge that up. He was dealing with enough as it was. But maybe I could take his mind off of things regardless.

"What does it feel like?" I wondered aloud.

"To get tattooed?" He whispered.

I nodded.

"It's kinda hard to describe," he said.

"Try me."

"Well, I guess it's what you'd expect, gettin' pricked with a tiny hot needle hundreds o' times," he said. "It stings fer a bit, but then yer body pumps ya full of drugs so ya barely feel it. Fer a while, at least. If it's near a bone, it sorta buzzes ya. Feels weird. The hand ones've hurt the most so far, I tink, but I'm used to it by now. Barely notice it really."

I nodded my head as I thought about it.

"Why d'ya ask? Yer not tinkin' of getting inked, are ya?"

"Nah," I answered. "I don't know if tattoos would suit me, really. I think I just wanted to swim around in your head a little."

"Oh, ya don't really want _that_," he joked. But yer always welcome to."

[“_Losing everything feels like the sun going down on me_.”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TxipVM_0CBA)

"You know before I met you, I was never into tattoos?"

He laughed.

"Fallin' fer me must o' been quite the shock, eh?"

"I'll admit I was kind of caught off guard, yeah," I told him. "But, God, that was the best surprise of my life."

"You didn't really like me, did ya?" he asked. "That first day we met it Annville."

"I didn't know _what_ to think of you, to be honest," I smiled. "Mostly I was wondering what this strange Irish man was doing sleeping in the back of a church in middle-of-nowhere Texas. But then after that, I dunno. I couldn't get you out of my head."

"I'm like ivy," he said.

"What?"

"I grow on ya," he smirked.

God, that was dumb, but I laughed, and laughed and couldn't stop. And then Cass giggled along with me, too. It felt good to get caught up in something so silly, if just for a moment, to forget about the mess we were in.

"Y'know that's my favorite sound in the world?" he asked.

"What is?"

"Yer laugh," he answered.

"Well then you're lucky you're so fuckin' funny," I joked, mostly because the earnestness of the moment was nearly too much to bear.

"I knew from that first day," Cass said, shaking his head. "Not that I'd fall in love wit' ya, necessarily, or be yer husband someday, but that ya were special. Important. Tings were about to change."

"And I wouldn't trade that change for the world," I told him, returning to the black shapes along on his hands. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I guess, getting to truly know you, seeing the way these are part of your history, the whole thing clicked. I think they're beautiful."

"_Yer_ beautiful,_" _he said. "I'm just impulsive. I feel somet'in' 'n I go fer it. And it doesn't help there's a kinda high ya get from The process that keeps ya coming back."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," I said. "That's exactly what I love about you. If you weren't, who knows if we'd even be here?"

"Yer not wrong there," he smiled gently before he let out a deep sigh.

["_I wanna see the sun, blotted out from the sky._"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O4irXQhgMqg)

Then he picked up the phone that was resting on the bed, lightly playing music, and opened up his photos. As he flipped through them, there were more candids of me, captured in glowing moments without me even knowing it. He took them in like they were something very precious.

And between them were photos he'd taken of Denis. And yes, in most of them, he was his usual, grumpy self, but there were also striking moments where Cass managed to shoot genuine smiles on Denis's face, and actual flickers of joy.

"He looks so happy," I said, nearly in awe.

"Yeah," Cass said, smiling but getting a little teary-eyed. "These times, they were brief, like, 'n too easy to miss, but they were there. I didn't wanna forget."

"Those are lovely things to remember him by," I told him, and he nodded tearfully as he moved through them.

"I wouldn't have these wit'out ya, y'know," he said.

["_Who loves the sun? Not everyone._"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNPovDOk4jY)

"You don't know that..."

"I do," Cass insisted. "I woulda taken this whole visit wit' him fer granted, I wouldn't know any French so I could help 'im out. I don't even know if I'dve known he was sick if it weren't fer you. It woulda been a bleedin' disaster."

"Cass..." I started to say, but I didn't know how to continue. _Could_ have been a disaster?

"Y'know what I mean." He knew me too well. "Point is, I finally did some o' what I shoulda done 70 fuckin' years ago. I appreciate the push."

"You're welcome, Cass," I said. "But you honestly didn't need _that_ much pushing. Especially with the French. You're a natural."

[ _"Tender is the ghost, the ghost I love the most, hiding from the sun, waiting for the night to come."_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SaHrqKKFnSA)

Indeed, his language lessons had been coming along beautifully. It seemed he had a real ear for language, and a knack for quickly picking up words and their contexts. Even his grammar, which I'd thought would be a struggle, was fluid and mostly accurate. Despite everything, I didn't believe for a second that his attempts had been in vain.

In fact, he was so good at it that it seemed miraculous to me he hadn't picked up any additional languages along the way during his 119 years on this earth. Up until now, he only had English, and the little bit of _Gaeilge_ his family had used all those years ago.

"Now how did a clever guy like you go all this time without absorbing new languages by osmosis, anyway?" I asked.

He shrugged softly, and then a realization dawned upon him.

"America," he answered simply.

I got it instantly.

"Well, you're proof it's never too late to learn," I told him, meaning every word. "Your accent? Impeccable."

[ _"I used to hate the sun because it shone on everything I'd done."_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xmNyqWbsqmQ)

"_Merci, ma chérie," _he thanked me, then did an exaggerated _honhonhon_ French laugh_, _even though it was clear he didn't much feel like laughing.

I, on the other hand, couldn't resist, letting out a chuckle.

"I don't think anyone really laughs like that," I told him.

"Sure they do," Cass insisted. "I mean, _Denis_ didn't, but he was never much of a laugher anyhow..."

He was threatening to lean into the sadness again. I gave him a look, and instantly he changed the subject.

"Maybe my French laugh does needs work, but it's very new," he admitted. "I can do other accents."

That piqued my interest.

"Like what?" I encouraged him.

"Like, er," he cleared his throat. "Ahm bloody Scoats, an ah cannae hulp bit pish masel, likesay."

"That's not very nice," I laughed. "Sounded about right, though."

To my untrained ears, it really had seemed flawless.

Feeling confident, he tried on a few more for size. While I could tell his standard American accent took some effort, it sounded fantastic. Sexy, even. His Texan accent was quite good, but he couldn't take it seriously enough for it not to be a big joke.

[ _"The sun machine is coming down, and we're gonna have a party."_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SVF8V4VKSX8)

And then he got to the English accents. His posh, RP voice made me burst into giggles. It didn't suit him in the slightest. Then there was something about a northern accent he did, somewhere in the realm of Mancunian, that gave me a powerful sense of déjà vu that made my brain tingle. It sounded so natural on him I was nearly convinced he was another man entirely. I found this as intriguing as it was unsettling.

"I see yer eyes goin' wide," Cass said. "I might've just opened Pandora's role play Box."

"I see," I teased him. "Truth be told, I _do_ have a favorite accent of yours..."

"Oh yeah?" he wondered. "And what might that be?"

"Irish," I answered with a smile.

I could see him attempting to formulate a retort. Instead, he just shut his mouth, and smiled softly, and grabbed my hand tight. All of those other versions of him were nice, sure, but all I needed was the real him.

[ _"Let the sun come out of the clouds of doubt I had."_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ySalXvHEJc)

* * *

We spent the majority of the day there in bed, some of it in comfortable silence, other times bringing up whatever silly things were popping into our heads, the room never completely quiet as the serendipitous music continued to play. When Banjo needed to get up to use the bathroom, Jesse ordered a police escort for him to do his duty in the quad. Twice, I rose to collect a fresh bag of blood for Cass, along with snacks and drinks to sustain us, and night had recently fallen.

At some point, many hours in, there was a knock on the door. When we admitted him, Jesse entered.

"Ready?" he asked us. "Could be any minute."

Cass rose then with a groan as he threw a plush white hoodie on. I didn't think he was ready at all, his bandages still bloodied, but he wasn't going to sit this one out. Especially not after what had happened with Denis.

"Yeah," he answered, strained. "I'm ready when you are, padre."

After some discussion, Cass and I had come to the agreement that I stay as far away from the action as possible, as frustrating as that was. I was prepared to hide under the bed again at Cassidy's signal—or the first sign of danger. I joined Cassidy at the door and he kissed me, a knowing power behind his touch, knowing what might come next.

"You've got this," I told him.

"Tanks to you," he said. "Now stay here. Stay safe. Y'know the drill."

With that, he closed the door behind him. Now, there wasn't much I could do but wait.

Through the door, Jesse spoke to his posse of cops. Mostly, I heard the chirps of walkie-talkies and men's indistinguishably staticky voices. Then, the pace of the messages quickened, their tones sounding more frantic.

"What is it?" Jesse demanded. "What's going on? How many are there?"

I'm not sure what Jesse heard after that, but it seemed it was go-time.

"Cass! Cass!" he shouted for him. "They're here! Let's go."

"Jesse, I got to..." I heard Tulip saying, but Jesse was already too invested in the situation to hear her.

"They're here!" he interrupted her. "Let's go."

Then there was some movement in the apartment, and doors being thrown open, and then a gunshot blast rattled the apartment. Banjo barely reacted—what a strange little dog—but that was my cue to hide. When I did, he knew exactly what to do, joining me beneath our under-the-bed blanket.

A stunned silence followed, and then the sound of running boots hitting the floor before I heard Jesse's voice.

"What'd you do that for?" Jesse shouted.

"He's one of them, Jesse," Tulip pleaded with him. "That's what I was trying to tell you. See? He's got a gun."

And then there was a pause.

"No, no, no," she repeated. "No. No, I swear I saw a gun. It was... It was in his hand."

This wasn't the emergency we'd been waiting for. It was something else entirely, and Tulip had made a mistake. And as foolish as it might have been, I felt I needed to go out there. She was about to need somebody, and given everything, that wasn't about to be Jesse.

"You could have killed me, you crazy bitch!" a man was shouting from the ground as I rushed back out into the room.

He was wearing a cap and a cleanroom suit and held a gloved hand to his bleeding, but non-lethal, gunshot wound. He'd dropped the pointed spray bottle that must have been mistaken for a gun.

"I thought it was..." Tulip muttered.

"It's all right," Jesse told her. "It's all right."

"It kind of looks like a gun, doesn't it?" Cassidy asked.

"Honest mistake," I chimed in.

I knew I wasn't supposed to be out here, but I felt more useful in the fray rather than in hiding. If anything, I could be emotional support. Cass didn't urge me to head back again, either.

Then Jesse's walkie-talkie rang out again.

"It's all clear," said a voice on the other end. "It's all clear. It's just some drunk. I repeat, it's all clear."

Jesse breathed a deep sigh of relief. It was a false alarm. For now.

"Okay, well," Tulip said, shaking herself off. "I'm gonna go keep a look-out."

"I'll join you, if you don't mind," I told her, and she relaxed a little at the thought.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Jesse said.

I followed Tulip to the living room window, and Banjo, who'd just exited the room, followed me. There, she looked out, holding her gun close to her heart with one hand.

"Hey, remember to breathe," I told her as she stared through the window.

"I'm breathin'," she argued as she held her stance, but even as she said that, I saw her breath change.

_In through the nose. Four. Out through the mouth. Eight. _Just like I'd taught her.

"Listen, we're all jumpy tonight," I told her. "It's okay to feel on edge. With _Denis_, with the Grail maybe coming back. Nobody blames you for shooting the cleaner."

"Oh, I know," she said with a strange sense of confidence, focused on the world beyond the frame.

She'd been like this for days, now. I had to assume the dreams hadn't ended. I still had a feeling they wouldn't until the Saint of Killers was truly dealt with—and I wondered if that would ever come to pass. And then there was Jesse's inventive and invasive new use of Genesis. It was worth mentioning.

"I heard Jesse used the Word to make you sleep," I whispered. "Are you okay?"

She closed her mouth tight as she shook her head. Under different circumstances, she might have cried. She was rattled, and none of this added stress was helping any.

I took her hand—the one that wasn't holding the gun—and squeezed it.

"I know he was just trying to help, but he's gotta learn when he's overstepping," I told her. "He's gotta stop playing God. At least with you."

"Yeah," she said. "Easier said than done."

"We'll talk to him," I insisted. "Cass and me. If you want us to."

"I can't have you fightin' all my battles for me," she said.

"Not all," I shook me head. "Just this one with Jesse. You deserve more from him, y'know? And I think he just needs some help recognizing that."

That's when Tulip lowered her gun hand and hugged me tight again. I held her back until she was fully ready to let go. Banjo wanted in, too, nuzzling up against her legs with his head. It took a moment.

"You know, he's pretty cute?" she smiled, looking down at him.

"I'm sure he'd be happy to hang out with you for the night if you'd like the company," I suggested. "Isn't that right, Banjo?"

He probably had no idea what I'd said, but he appeared to pant happily in response.

"Well then I'm takin' him," Tulip said, lifting the tiny dog right up off the ground and holding him to her chest. He didn't resist in the slightest, and she smiled at his sweetness.

And just as we turned away from the window, I swore I saw something out of the corner of my eye—a bright, fiery flash—but when I turned for a better look, it was gone.

"Did you see that?" I asked Tulip.

"See what?"

"Never mind," I said.

More hours passed, and eventually, we all got the impression that tonight would not be the night. There was a sense of relief mixed with the feeling that it would be better to have the whole thing over with already.

Jesse continued to stand guard as the rest of us retreated into our rooms. I rested on Cass's chest again tonight, knowing that in the morning, he may actually have all of his skin and organs back in place and I could properly squeeze him again.

As I grew sleepy, he whispered to me.

"Listen, I've been tinkin'," he said quietly, his tone serious. "Me 'n _Denis_, well I really bollocksed tings up. Goin' back, I shoulda been there. Watched him grow, been his Da from the start. I've so many regrets.

"But, Jaysis, the man I got to know in the last week, y'know, he was just _so_ unhappy, 'n there's not'in' I coulda done in a week's time, or a year's, or a decade's, to undo the past. And I'm very much to blame. I know that.

"And—well, I feel like a right piece o' shite fer sayin' this—but, God, maybe I did the right ting not turnin' 'im. His sufferin's ended now. Instead o' goin' on forever. Gettin' inflicted on other people. 'N I know it's the last ting I should be feelin' but, I tink I'm relieved.

"And 'is last words were... listen, he t'anked me. That woulda never happened wit'out you. Honestly, I mighta just turned 'im outta guilt 'n made a monster wit'out ya around. I don't know how you've been so patient wit' me, but I love ya so much 'n I don't know how I can repay ya fer any of it."

His confession left me a mess of emotions, and at first, I struggled to answer through my tears.

"You just gotta be you, Cass," I eventually managed to say as I sniffled. "We just have to keep loving each other and things will balance out. That's how you repay me, okay?"

"Okay," he answered, his voice earnest and warm.

And though things were far from simple, and far from over, I was surprised how easily slumber came for us that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you much for reading! It's reader support like yours that really keeps me going well after week, and honestly just seeing that "Hits" count tick up with each new chapter is so fulfilling to me. If you're enjoying, I'd love to hear from you.
> 
> I also hope you liked the little playlist of the linked songs that seem to come up again and again for me as I've been writing this story from the start. And if you're unfamiliar with the band Then Thickens, I HIGHLY recommend you open up the last song link for a surprise...


	42. Our Friend Phil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cass and Ada get their own turn at questioning the captured Grail officer.

I awoke to a welcome sensation. Cass had one arm draped over me, holding me close as we laid on our sides, and his hard cock was poking me in the back of my thigh. I felt his warm, sweet breath, steady and deep, against my neck, making goosebumps raise on my skin. He was still fast asleep, and I wondered what kind of lovely dreams he might be having.

"Cass," I whispered his name. "Caaaass."

He stirred gently.

"Hmm?" he asked in a daze, still mostly asleep, and upon feeling his morning wood pressed against me, he flinched.

"You can hold me tighter if you're ready," I told him, unsure where he was in his healing process. Maybe he still needed time.

But at those words, he pressed up against me even closer.

"I feel whole again, y'know?" he whispered to me. "All me insides in place. Skin intact. Body's still sore, 'n heart's still slightly broken, but that can't be helped so quick."

"We should celebrate," I answered. "Anything you like."

I pushed back against his erection with my body and he moaned.

"Can I watch ya touch yerself?" he asked. "I want ya to enjoy yerself but I'm afraid I won't be o' much use right now."

"I'd love to," I said, slipping out of my pajamas and getting on top of the blankets, leaning over, ready to put on a show for him.

In that moment, I was so aware of the fact he never made me feel self-conscious. Instead, I knew that however I looked, I was exactly who he wanted to see in front of him. That made me feel so powerful—charged with an energy I wanted to give right back to him.

"Anything you wanna see?"

"I just want ya to have a lovely time," he smiled gently.

"Hmmm," I said, rising from bed and turning to my nightstand to dig around. "In that case, maybe a plug is in order."

After locating them, I eyed the four grey silicone plugs for a second. The smallest seemed almost comically tiny, now, but the next step up was like quite the leap. I pulled the second one out for Cass to see.

"You think I'm ready?" I asked him.

"Oh yeah," he said, cooly and confidently, and I could feel my pussy getting wet at the mere thought of having my asshole stretched further by it.

I carefully lubed the thing up and then laid back down on the bed, raising my knees while I relaxed. I looked at Cass and bit my lip as I slid it up inside of me. I was surprised at how easily it went in this time, and though the sensation was much more intense, _all_ of it was good.

Cass was getting a kick out of my enjoyment, too, but I didn't want to keep up this teasing too much longer.

That's when I laid my legs back down, straight out in front of me, as I placed my hand between my legs and started rubbing my clit. It was already wet and slick, but doubly so now from the leftover lube on my fingers.

My clit was already excited, too, and I knew it wouldn't take much to make me cum now—not with the toy in my ass doubling each incredible sensation. I rubbed against it in tiny movements, left and right, for less than a minute in order to get there.

"Oh fuck, Cass," I cursed under my breath as the wave took over my whole body, pulsing through my loins and lingering everywhere I was most sensitive, making my leg muscles clench as the gorgeous sensation washed over me.

I turned to him now, panting and hungry for him.

"What's next?" I asked him. I had to know.

"Well, let's see," he said, pulling the blanket down to uncover his bandages, lightly stained with dried blood.

On his nightstand he had the bandage roll, and a pair of scissors and his migraine meds. He reached for the sharp scissors and then, rather haphazardly, started snipping away from the top of his bandages, until he'd cut through to the bottom. They seemed to reveal a perfectly healed torso.

"Good as new," he grinned.

It wasn't exactly foreplay, but it'd do in a pinch. He removed all the bandages, peeled off his hoodie and got out of his pants, and leaned on his side toward me, rigid cock straight out, and motioned for me to lay right up against him.

I did, nestling my back next to him. He lifted my top leg, using his other hand to press his rock hard cock into me from behind. God, he felt big, and it'd only been a couple of days since I'd last had him, but they had been long and arduous and I'd forgotten how magnificent he was.

"Jaysis, yer so wet," he muttered as he thrust himself inside of me, and my breath hitched at the deliriously pleasurable mix of sensations. "Mmm, 'n the fuckin' plug makes ya feel even tighter."

"God, I love the things your cock can do to me, Cass," I moaned under my breath. Nothing was better than feeling this full with him—and the fact he could feel it, too, made me even more eager for him.

I couldn't help but grind back against him, angling myself so his cock hit in just the right spot, the plug heightening every nerve, its base occasionally bumping him, making the sensation even deeper and more vivid. I let out a soft moan with each breath.

"I love watchin' ya, Adelaide," he whispered between little gasps. "Every little moan, every tiny twitch. There's not'in' better'n knowin' I can make ya feel like that."

"Fuck, Proinsias," I moaned as I pressed back against him again and again. "No one's ever made me feel the way you do. Never. God, you're good. _God_."

He held my body to his now, isolating my grinding against him to small, fast movements that filled me with bliss.

"Oh, Ada." He let out a low groan. "Keep doin' that. Keep doin' that. I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna _cum_..."

And I never stopped, fucking him fast and hard as he came inside of me, following the cadence of his soft, deep moans to milk every last drop out of him. I loved nothing more than the sounds emanating from deep within him.

When he was all through, he pulled out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close and kissing my neck, taking in my scent.

"God, I needed that," he muttered in my ear. "I love that I get to be wit' you, y'know that?"

"I do," I answered. "And I feel exactly the same way about you."

"We're lucky," he said. "We gotta deal wit' a truckload o' shite sometimes, but God, we're lucky."

I couldn't disagree with that.

"And listen," he raised an eyebrow, and took his voice down to a sultry whisper. "In the future, if ya catch me wit' mornin' glory, I give me permission for ya to start wit'out wakin' me—if yer keen."

"Are you positive?" I asked. "There aren't times where, like, your body is up for it, but your head isn't?"

"If I'm up, I'm up fer it," he assured me. "So long as it's you 'n me, we're fuckin' gold."

"I'll kept that in mind," I smiled.

And damn. I _absolutely_ would.

But for the moment, I had a slightly more pressing matter to attend to.

"How many folks do you think we have outside right now?" I asked Cassidy.

"Hmm," he considered. "Well, Jesse's out there, no doubt starin' out the window. Definitely the Grail feller. Maybe a cop or two?"

"Smuggling this plug back is gonna be a whole thing, isn't it?" I groaned.

"Aw, you'll be like a sexy little Han Solo," he grinned. "Y'know, if he were in the butt plug business. 'N Harrison Ford set the bar quite high on that one, so yer in good shape."

I wasn't sure if that was a pep talk, exactly, but it did make me feel up to the task. I threw my pajamas back on, as well as a jacket, and did my walk to the bathroom, trying not to move like a large object was still shoved inside of me. I'm not sure if Jessewas even aware of me as I passed by, his attentions turned to the messages coming in on his walkie-talkie.

In the bathroom, I peed and then removed and thoroughly cleaned the butt plug before tucking it away in my jacket and tiptoeing back to the room, our roommates none the wiser.

"How'd yer Kessel Run go?" Cass asked.

"Took less than 12 parsecs," I answered, laying back down.

"Liar," he joked, and I feigned offense before he pressed his lips to mine, a smile spreading on his face.

A good night's sleep—and perhaps our moment together this morning—had done him a world of good, and I adored seeing him caught up in his own joy.

"So... what do we do today?" I wondered.

"Maybe we should check in with Jess?" he suggested. "He might know somet'in' new, or need a hand?"

It was worth a try, though I anticipated that Jesse would be nothing but annoyed with us.

After Cass dressed, we left the room together and approached Jesse. He seemed to be operating on no sleep at all as he tensely scanned the horizon through the living room window with binoculars.

"Good morning, padre," Cass said to him, making sure to stay clear of the beams of light streaming in though the window.

"Uh huh," Jesse said, barely acknowledging us.

"We were wonderin', Jess, if there anyt'in' we can do today?" Cass asked. "To help out?"

"Help out?" Jesse repeated.

"Wit' the operation," Cass explained, aspatiently as he could. He understood that Jesse's mind was elsewhere. "Y'know these bastards killed me son. We wanna be of use, if we can."

"I think I got it covered, Cass," Jesse answered, twitchily. "Just—don't go anywhere. Who knows what might be planned for us out there? We're all safest if we stay put. My troops'll see to that."

"And how long will we be stuck in here?" I asked him.

"I don't imagine it'll take much longer for them to strike," he answered. "The regroup will come soon. It's gotta."

"When was the last time ya slept?" Cassidy asked him, noticing the fever pitch of his words, and the tension in his movement.

"Who knows, Cass," he answered dismissively.

"Hey, look, now," Cass said, his tone assertive yet tender. "Yer not gonna do much good commandin' yer squadron of goons if yer fallin' outta yer seat, alright?"

"I've gotta keep an eye out," Jesse argued.

"You _made_ Tulip sleep, right?" I chimed in. "When that was the last thing she wanted? When she explicitly told you never to use the Word on her again?"

"Well, yeah," he answered, voice getting quiet. "I didn't like it either, but I was runnin' outta options. I was worried for her. It'd been days..."

"Why is this any different?" I asked.

"Because this is important," he said.

"And ya don't tink me 'n Ada can handle yer one-man job, together?" Cass asked, trying to make Jesse feel guilty by implication.

"I never said that..." Jesse started.

"We know how to work a walkie-talkie, Jess," I added.

"Well..." Jesse thought, getting flustered. "What about Phil out there?"

"Y'mean the Grail bloke you've demanded to sit still in the kitchen, who hasn't moved in literally 48 hours?" Cass asked. "I tink we can handle 'im."

"No," Jess said. "I've been interrogating him. Tryin' to find out more about the Grail."

"I think we'd make a good interrogation team," I said. "Wouldn't we, Cass?"

"Absolutely," he agreed. "Y'know, we can do it the easy way or the hard way. Kill 'im wit' kindness, or torture it outta him wit' the 'Meow Mix' jingle like the C.I.A. does at Guantánamo. Yer call, padre."

"Do _not_ torture the prisoner," Jesse groaned, clutching his head. "Fine."

He stepped into the kitchen and stood above Phil, who was looking dead eyed and miserable, and starting to stink.

"**_Do what these two tell you,_**_" _Jesse ordered.** "_And_ _answer their questions._**"

Then he shoved his walkie-talkie in Cassidy's hand.

"If _anything _out of the ordinary happens, you wake me up, pronto," he told him. "Got it?"

"Got it," Cass affirmed.

"Sweet dreams, Jess," I told him.

"You two better not fuck this up," he said, and before either of us could really respond, he trudged off to get some shut-eye.

At that, we turned to poor cowering Phil. Could Genesis really be powerful enough to grant us power over him?

"We gotta test the Word," I told Cassidy. "And if this does work, we have to work together not to go overboard, alright?"

"Yeah, good idea," Cass agreed. "So how do we do that?"

"I guess we can start with a couple of questions," I said.

And then, I directed my words to Phil.

"What's your name?" I asked him.

"Phil Koyama," he blurted out. That one was easy enough, though.

"You got a question for him, Cass?"

He pondered it for a moment before grinning.

"What's yer favorite guilty pleasure song?"

"'7 Things' by Miley Cyrus," Phil answered, appearing like he really wished he hadn't.

"I trust him," Cassidy said, and I supposed I did, too. "And don't worry mate, Miley's a talented lass. Listen, I like Justin Bieber, so you've not'in' to worry about."

Oddly, that seemed to put the man at ease. He even appeared to nearly smile under his closed lips.

"What's the one thing you want most right now?" I asked him.

"To get the hell out of here," he answered.

"No can do on that one," I said. "What's next on the list?"

"A hot shower."

"Alright," I said. "Well, let's see..."

I mentally ran through a reasonable list of guidelines for him.

"Don't harm yourself, or anyone or anything else, don't try to leave and don't attempt to contact anyone," I ordered. "Can you think of anything else, Cass?"

"I tink that pretty much covers it."

"So go ahead and take a shower," I told him. "Shower's in the hall, fresh towels are in the closet next to it. Freshen up however you need. Don't wander off."

Phil quickly rose to his feet, shocked to be able to move.

"Th... Thank you," he stammered, and scrambled off to do precisely as he was told.

Cass laughed at the whole thing.

"So responsible," he teased. "It's actually quite sexy."

"Well thanks," I blushed. "Maybe later I can show you just how responsible I am..."

"You better," he teased. Then he thought, and shook his head. "Listen, I know these Grail fellers are the bad guys. Part o' me wants to hurt 'im, y'know, after all that's happened. But even still I felt guilty seein' 'im there day after day, just watchin' it all go down. I guess it feels good treatin' 'im wit' a bit o' humanity."

"That's my basic M.O.," I told him.

He chuckled.

"Ya mean yer kindness doesn't just come outta the goodness o' yer heart?" he said.

"Oh, it's all very selfish and rewards-driven," I said. "That, and being even a tiny bit mean makes me feel like shit."

"Well, I wouldn't change a ting," he said. "But... well, what do we do wit' him now?"

"I guess we make him feel at home," I said. "Get him some clean clothes, something to eat. Maybe he'll spill the beans on something unexpected. Oh—and probably wipe down his kitchen chair. He was sitting there a _long _time_._"

Cass volunteered for that last unpleasant task, and then we dug through Cassidy's things in search of something that'd fit Phil. He was only a couple inches taller than Cassidy, but had a much broader build. He probably had a hundred pounds on him. Cass's most oversized pair of sweats and a massive T-shirt bearing a painted montage of three grizzly bears would have to do. Cass knocked on the bathroom door, announced himself and slipped the fresh pile of clothes inside for him as Phil got cleaned up.

Next was the food. We actually had a fully stocked fridge, for once—my personal request fulfilled by our guards on duty—but I didn't really feel up to the task of cooking Phil a meal from scratch.

"How does pizza sound?" I asked Cass.

"Bloody fantastic," he answered. "How're we gonna get it, though, on house arrest? Imagine we all get shot up by some friggin' Grail pizza boy."

Then we both turned our eyes to the walkie-talkie Jesse had endowed upon us.

It had been far from silent since we'd taken over the job, but every single message had simply declared that the coast was clear.

Cass held it in front of him, pressing down the button before speaking.

"Hello!" Cass sent out. "How is everyone?" And then, suddenly thinking it prudent, he added, "Over."

"This is Station 1," answered a gruff voice. "This is meant to be a secure channel. Who is this?"

"It's Cassidy," he answered simply.

"You're going to have to get off this channel, sir," the man responded.

"No no no no," Cassidy said this time. "Wait, listen—I'm Jesse's best mate. He's taken a break and I'm in charge, 'n he said you gotta listen to me fer the moment."

That last bit was a lie, but they didn't have to know that.

"Yessir," was the answer on the other side. "What do you need, sir?"

"Well, no need for the formalities, boys," he said, flattered. "I was just wonderin'—do you all like pizza?"

* * *

We wound up ordering seven pizzas in total—a four-meat for Cassidy and Jesse, plain cheese for Phil, Hawaiian for Tulip and me and a couple each of pepperoni and cheese for the guys guarding the apartment. I didn't _love_ that they had to be cops, but we were in charge and I felt slightly responsible for them.

We had a system, too. One of the officers had come up to collect the cash to pay for everything, and waited in front of the front gate until the delivery arrived. Once it was paid for, and the pizza boy had taken off, our pizzas were carried up to the apartment. Pizza had demanded solutions, and we'd provided them.

Phil had come out of the shower looking a little silly in Cass's borrowed (and slightly tight) clothes, but he had relaxed so much I barely recognized him. His big white Grail tactical suit badly needed dry cleaning, so we shoved it away into a hamper for the time being.

Cass almost got a little choked up as he invited Phil to sit in what had been Denis's recliner, and then we opened up our three pizza boxes on the coffee table and passed around plates.

"Would ya mind if we turned on the TV?" Cass asked him.

"No," Phil answered. "It'd be nice, actually."

Cass nodded and grabbed the remote control, flipping the TV on. It was set on the news, and before Cass could change the channel to something else, the segment demanded our attention.

"Harry Connick Jr. Bombed Dead in New Orleans" read the chyron.

"In shocking local news," read the tearful anchor, "beloved New Orleans native Harry Connick Jr. is dead after a drone attack on his Lakeview home last night. The singer, actor and talk-show host was the only person harmed in the attack, thought to be perpetrated by Armenian terrorists. He was 49."

"Jaysis," Cass muttered. "That's not too far from here."

"Huge tragedy," Phil shook his head, sadly. "He was such a talent."

"He was good in _Independence Day_," Cass said.

"And _The Iron Giant_," I added.

At that, the boys murmured in agreement.

"All right, this is gettin' depressin' now," Cass said, switching the channel. "_Tom and Jerry_. That's better."

"Were you two _seriously_ gonna eat pizza and watch cartoons out here without me?" Tulip interrupted.

She'd stepped out into the living room with Banjo held up tight against her, panting happily.

"I didn't know you were up," I smiled. "Cass, scoot your butt."

He did, making room for Tulip next to me on the couch, and she placed the dog in her lap as she sat down, reaching around him for a slice of the pineapple and Canadian bacon pizza.

"I wasn't sleepin' you know," she said, taking a bite. "I was up, thinkin', and this little guy was my thinkin' buddy. Weren't you, Banjo?"

Heprobably didn't understand, but he looked quite happy.

"Jesse started snorin' up a storm the second he closed his eyes and I had to get outta there," she said. "And what's this Grail guy doin' here sittin' with us?"

"Hi," Phil said sheepishly.

"We're just giving him a break," I told her.

"Sounds weird, but okay," she shrugged. "And how the hell did you know that I love pineapple pizza?"

"I had a hunch," I answered. Her insatiable sweet tooth was the dead giveaway. But mostly, it was a selfish choice. I loved it, too.

"Can the dog have some pizza?" she asked me, smiling like a little kid begging me for a yes.

"Do _not_ give Banjo pizza," I warned her.

He was a good boy, and while he did deserve to be spoiled, I didn't want people food to be a big part of that equation.

"Oh c'mon!" she begged.

I thought about it.

"He can have _one _pineapple," I told Tulip, and she put on a wide grin.

She plucked the biggest hunk of pineapple sticking out of her pizza and pinched it between her fingers, holding it above Banjo's head.

"Speak," she told him, and he let out a single yip. "Nice goin', Banjo."

She placed it in front of his mouth and he stuck out his tongue, collecting it up and lifting his snout to pull it back into his mouth. He had to open his jaw wide to chomp down again and again at the soft fruit with his molars on one side. When he was finished, he laid down on her.

"So, Philip," Cass said, returning our attentions to the captive man. "What's your deal?"

"I'm Phil. 31. A Libra. 6'2, 250 lbs. I like mountain climbing and Jiu-Jitsu and my favorite color is orange..." he rattled off.

"Alright, enough," Cass interrupted. "Sorry about that, mate."

"You weren't very specific," Phil answered, sounding agitated.

"Sorry," I said. "We're new at this. We'll be careful."

"Thanks," he sighed, unconvinced.

"Wait, slow the hell down," Tulip said. "Now you two are Genesis-ising him, too? How?"

"Jesse told him to listen to us," Cassidy shrugged.

"That sonuvabitch," Tulip muttered under her breath. "You're being careful, right? Because this shit's serious. I don't like this one bit."

And then she scrunched up her lips, and paused to think for a second before saying, "And, Jesse didn't even include me? That's stone cold."

"We're going to be as precise as we can," I told her. "We promise. We're not gonna let the Word do a Monkey's Paw on this shit."

"I appreciate it," she said, her face crinkling into an almost-smile.

I only had to think for a moment before I spoke again.

"Obey Tulip, too," I ordered Phil. He sighed, and she grinned at me, exposing all of her teeth.

"So, Philip," Cass said now, finishing up his half of his pizza. "Out of baseball, tennis, golf, boxin' 'n bowlin', what do you like best?"

"Baseball," he answered confidently.

"It's settled, then," Cass said, wiping his greasy fingers on a napkin before picking up a white Wiimote from the table. "Who's up fer a game of _Wii Sports_?"

* * *

Having only two remotes somehow didn't diminish our enjoyment of the game, with the loser of each round passing off the controller to the person who'd gone longest without playing.

Phil played with laser precision, winning nearly every round with ease. His swings were never off, and his pitches continuously tripped us up. Again, Cass's insistence on holding and swinging the controller like an actual baseball bat inevitably led to him striking out. I also got the impression he'd never swung a bat at a ball, and had instead used them in combat situations, but now wasn't the time to get into that.

I couldn't stop smiling at the little Miis we'd created, too. They were all pretty good likenesses, besides Cass's. Even so, the smirky mouth was a dead giveaway. All the while, the walkie-talkie continued to rattle with the same old messages indicating a whole lot of nothing.

Throughout the afternoon, we learned a lot about Phil. He did understand we were buttering him up to some degree, and even though he was forced to answer our questions, he managed to remain tight-lipped about the Grail.

We did discover Phil had lost his parents at a young age and been raised by his very religious grandmother. When she passed, very recently, the Grail swooped in. In school, he had been a top student, as well as a star athlete, but finding steady work had become tough for him in recent years. He was about to lose everything. But the Grail could use his talents, give him what he _deserved_, they said. They had a godly message he could get behind, and the generous pay was more than enough to cover the property tax on his grandma's little house in Baton Rouge. His loyalty was won quickly.

Then he learned more—that the Grail had a hand in most of the world's major corporations—though they were discreet about which ones—and that they were facilitating the second coming of Christ himself. Apparently, his big debut would be coming in 2020, and it would usher in a new era. The world would never be the same.

Now, I didn't know about all that. 2020 was just a year away, and could this organization _truly_ bring back Jesus? It all sounded pretty farfetched—but so had calling Heaven, and talking to God, and discovering he was a fake and then heading off in search of the real one. Plus, the Grail had been the ones to find God's replacement. They _must_ have some kind of real power. That wasn't good.

But even with that knowledge, we had nothing to go on. Phil couldn't get back in touch with the Grail and didn't even know where they were located. They were impossibly secretive, and we wouldn't find them without a much stronger lead. Plus, the folks Phil was closest to—the squadron he'd spent his entire Grail tenure with—had either been shot dead by Phil o Jesse's command or had their blood drained by Cass.

He didn't know anything helpful—we asked him point blank if he did—and although we knew more than we had at the start of things, none of it could lead to any direct action. Maybe the right question would unlock something, eventually, but we didn't have the slightest idea of what that might be.

"What the hell is going on out here?" Jesse demanded to know as he emerged from his room.

"Just gettin' to know Philip, padre," Cass explained.

"No one's watchin' the window?" he asked.

"We've been tuned in with the police this whole time," I told him. "Like you said, you've got 20 guys watching the perimeter at all times. They'd tell us if something was up."

I got him there.

"So you're just letting him play video games and eat pizza?" Jesse asked, his voice sharp with incredulity.

"There's half a four-meat pizza fer ya here if yer jealous," Cass offered.

Jesse still looked agitated, but without a word, he bent down, opened the central pizza box and removed a slice. Then he scarfed it down.

"Phil's been ordered to behave," I explained. "No harming anything, no outside communication, no escaping. We figured it would be good to let him live a little. And it might be good to let him sleep on the couch?"

"Fine," Jesse said. He sounded annoyed, but perhaps he was mostly annoyed at the fact that it made sense not to treat him like crap. "But I think you've both done enough. **_Phil, don't take any new orders from Ada and Cass._**"

Well, that had been fun while it lasted. Tulip attempted to conceal a giant smile, but failed, and Jesse rolled his eyes at us.

"**_Or Tulip,_**" he added, and Tulip's smile faded. "Seriously, guys?"

We shrugged.

"Phil, just keep doin' what you're doin', I guess," Jesse shook his head. "Stop foolin' around, guys. I'm gonna get back to my lookout."

He grabbed another slice of his pizza, carrying it in his mouth crust-first, and took the entire box, bringing it back to the window to sustain him during his watch.

"The Wii's all yers, mate," Cass said,sliding the TV remote control to him, too. "We got all the local channels. Knock yerself out."

He actually looked sad when we got up to leave him there.

"Can I borrow Banjo again?" Tulip asked, still holding him as we made our way back to our rooms. "I can feed him, and refill his water, and call on the cops to take him out to do his business. It's just, he's good company. Super cute—and watchin' him sleep relaxes me. I dunno."

"Of course," I told her. "But did you maybe want to chill with us for a little bit?"

"In your room?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said. "It's not super spacious or anything, but we can all just hang out. Today's been fun, all things considered, and it doesn't have to end just because Jesse doesn't want us bugging Phil."

"You don't mind, Cass?" Tulip asked

"Why would I?" he answered.

"Alright," she smiled. "Sleepover it is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I appreciate you readers more than I can say! Thanks so much for caring about the story what happens next, and I hope you enjoyed this one. I'm not sure how long I'll stretch out the gang's week waiting for the Grail to get back... after that, things are gonna start moving pretty fast!
> 
> If you'd like to drop me a line, I'd love to read your comments and find out more about the things that keep you reading. Looking forward to putting their little sleepover together, too... :)


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